Power Surge
by ritsam
Summary: AU-Pre-Season Sam 18/Dean 22. A deranged hunter is singling out psychic kids and killing them. In the meantime Sam is starting to develop his abilities and becomes a target.Hurt/Limp Sam;Pro/Hurt Dean; Pro John.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: - I don't own Dean, John and *cough* Sam Winchester and oh, 'Hollywood Knights' team *Damnit***

**Rating: - K+**

**A/N 1:- Thanks to my beta Vonnie, she is a sweetheart.**

**A/N 2:- Special thanks to my wonderful friend "Mizpah" for her awesome tweaks. Thanks Jules. You're awesome.**

* * *

**POWER SURGE**

* * *

"Logan, are you sure about them?" The burly man in his mid thirties fidgeted slightly. He tucked his gun in his waistband and looked at the gagged and tied up kids in front of him. The three teens were bound with manacles on their wrists and ankles and lying in a heap one on top of the other; seemingly unconscious. It looked like someone had thrown them carelessly in a heap like a pile of luggage. There were two boys and a girl; all badly beaten.

The man called Logan was sitting on a chair, smoking; his cold glare fixed on his reluctant buddy. His face was contorted with anger and annoyance, as the other one asked him about those children. He snarled and took a swig of whiskey. "What! Are you doubting me?" He angrily unfolded his crossed leg and leaned slightly forward. "They are not just kids Brad, they are nothing better than hell spawn demonic sons of b*tches. We should smite them as soon as we can."

"But…" Brad seemed to be hesitating. He rubbed an uneasy hand against his stubbled face. Stealing a quick sympathetic glance towards those tied, beaten and unconscious kids once again, he continued, "…but they are barely adults and as far I know, they haven't done anything to be executed for." He swallowed, "I mean…"

Brad's voice cut off abruptly as Logan punched the wooden table with intensified rage and stood up. The chair toppled behind him with a loud thud. Logan scrunched his face with utter disgust and threw his half-burned cigarette at his foot. Brad stepped back a little as his furious buddy advanced on him.

"You don't mean anything. You know what these crazy kids can do, don't you?"

"I…I…" Brad's voice faltered and his breath hitched as Logan grabbed his jacket's collar and shook him not so gently.

"These are the psychic kids and they have super powers, you got that now Brad!" He fiercely whispered with clenched teeth. "These are the psychos, who gonna stand up at hell's side, they gonna kill us - the whole frigging human kind. Don't you remember, what Gordon Walker warned us of? These kids are walking time bombs. When their time comes, they'll explode and destroy everything. Do you think they're worth saving?"

Brad's head bobbed with each jerking. He licked his lips and gently pried Logan's hands off his collar, before pacing uncoordinatedly for a few moments, raking his fingers through his short hair. "But we are hunters for freak's sake, not murderers. And Gordon is a bastard you know. He will do anything to make his own profit on account of us, or anybody."

Logan exhaled loudly, before continuing, "Look, Brad, I know what you're thinking. Yes, we are hunters, but they are…" He pointed towards the kids, "…they are monsters. They are freaks, who can kill us without batting an eyelid. Sure they look innocent, but underneath these human vessels, they are cold blooded hell spawns. If we don't smite these diseases from the world, it will spread faster than we could imagine. The whole world, mankind will be destroyed. Do you want that?"

"No…" the other hunter still couldn't fathom what was right or wrong. Yes, he could understand what his hunter buddy wanted to say, but after seeing at the faces of those kids, he could not believe that they would kill anyone in cold blood. And he certainly didn't believe in Gordon Walker.

Seeing the hesitation clearly showing in his friend's eyes, Logan sighed exasperatedly. "Okay. So you need hard proof. Alright then, I am giving you hard proof." Without wasting a second he strode to where the kids were laying and unmercifully yanked the girl by grabbing her jacket collar. With this sudden jolt the kid regained consciousness and started whimpering through her gag. Tears were falling like miniature torrents down her cheeks, as her eyes were begging for mercy. But it was like cry in the wilderness to the heartless hunter. The girl stumbled as the hunter shoved her, falling to her knees.

"Logan…" Again Brad had to halt, when Logan shut him down.

"You see, this kid has got electrical boost in her hands." He smirked in satisfaction when Brad's eyes became wide, "…and whenever she touches anyone, they get electrocuted." Taking a good look at his friend's shocked expression, he smirked humorlessly. "Wanna see a little experiment, my friend?"

Logan did not wait for an answer. He quickly tugged off the gloves the girl was wearing and grabbed her cuffed wrist tightly. The poor girl again whimpered breathlessly and tried to squirm. But the burly hunter's granite grip didn't allow for even the slightest movement.

"Now touch her hand, would you? Touch her and tell me if you feel something or not." Logan challenged his friend.

Brad was completely dumbfounded, didn't know what to do. He didn't want to believe that a cute little girl would have this kind of supernatural powers, but no doubt he was afraid. He was afraid, if he got electrocuted, then…

Without warning Logan grabbed his right arm and thrust it against the girl's hand. Brad's head jerked back and he screamed as a jolt of pure electricity coursed through his hand. He quickly snatched his arm back and shook it, the limb still trembling with the aftershock.

"Don't do that again," He barked at the other man as he continued to shake the tremors off his still vibrating arm.

Logan smirked at his friend's erratic attitude and pushed the girl down to the floor. He came close to Brad and took his electrocuted hand into his own. "See how dangerous they are, and could be in future. This is only the beginning. Their powers have just started to develop. When they grow up more and turn into adults, their powers will be uncontrollable." He pulled a knife from his jacket and checked its sharpness by drawing blood with his fingertip. "We should kill them before they get their final juice."

"Wait, Logan. You just can't slit her throat. She is just a kid. If she gets control over her powers…" He looked at the girl, who was still trembling in utmost fear of getting ganked by this psycho killer.

"No, she won't." Logan almost growled, "You saw her, how did she shock you? You could've died. Why don't you understand?"

'_**She didn't shock me, you did'**_ Brad thought wryly, but muttered only one word, "But…"

"No **BUTS**…she's an abomination. A supernatural freak and I will kill her and eventually every freak I can find. And you…" He screamed like a psychotic patient, "…you will help me to finish this job. After I gather all the crazy freaks like her, I will make a trophy with their decapitated heads."

Without warning, he quickly pushed the sharp blade against the girl's throat and within a fraction of second slit it with one swift motion.

Brad gasped, staggering back as the inhumane scenario played out before his eyes. The poor girl let out a muffled gurgle before her body fell lifelessly to the wooden floor. Rivulets of blood flowed from her gaping throat, her dead eyes staring at the ceiling as the crimson fluid pooled around her head.

"One down…" The psycho hunter announced proudly and wiped the blood-smeared knife on his sleeve, "…countless to go." And let out a blood-curdling laugh.

* * *

Thump.

Thump.

The neon orange basketball was dribbling up and down in a slow but steady manner. A lean but strong hand was controlling it, expressive blue-green eyes scanning the whole game room. One basket left to go; only five minutes left and he was surrounded by every single player of the opposing team. He moved his head a little and got an almost invisible nod from his co-player. Taking a deep refreshing breath, he steadied himself for the most important yet almost impossible shot.

As the coach whistled, he started running with the dribbling ball; the other players catching up with him. He was dodging them like a wildcat, leaving them breathless. But a few opposition players had cornered him, so he couldn't pass through them to his destined point.

"Sam, over here!" The other team mate hollered at him and gestured for him to throw the ball.

Without wasting any more precious seconds, Sam threw the ball to his teammate and ran towards the basket. _**'Only 3 minutes left Winchester, everyone is counting on you,'**_ Sam mentally counted as he passed the other players.

Scott, the other player who was currently dribbling the ball, ran faster but he knew he couldn't make it down to the basket in time. Other players were chasing him and there were only two minutes left. He quickly registered that Sam was almost near the basket and if he could just pass the ball again to him, Sam would surely get the shot.

Sam changed direction slightly, running to meet the ball that Scott tossed towards him.

Suddenly a piercing pain shot through his head, momentarily blinding him. He gasped audibly as a blazing white light flared in front of his eyes and his world tilted on its axis. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision,_** 'What was that? No time for a freaking migraine,'**_ He thought, gasping, and clenched his teeth against the excruciating pain. He saw the ball coming towards him, moving as if in slow motion, and somehow managed to jump up in time to catch it.

"Yes, Winchester. Good catch, yes, yes…" His coach's cheerful but somehow tense voice filled the whole game room. Coach Adams knew only Sam could put the ball into the basket. Sam was one of the best players and captain of his dream **'Hollywood Knights'** basketball team. He always selected number one players but among them---Sam was just the best. He had never seen anyone as quick and graceful as that boy. He could not help but be amazed that the tall, shy, lean but well built boy could manage this kind of skill along with his study. Yes, Sam was also the top rated student of his class and the coach, along with most of the other teachers, were sure that the boy would be the valedictorian of this year.

Sam tried to focus on the ball, but the intense pain in his head didn't let him. Grimacing, he squeezed his eyes closed as another white flash obscured his vision

_**Flash**__- a girl was running- __**flash**__- a dark figure chasing her- the girl screams- __**flash**__-_

"Ahhhhhhh Godd…" Sam screamed but his voice went unheard because of the shouting and cheering. As soon those flashes came, they dissipated instantly.

Sam realized that he was still clutching the ball and the rival players were advancing on him in slow motion. He knew he had to reach the basket or else their hope to reach the final tournament would be dashed. Trying to ignore the blazing pain in his head, he rushed towards the goal point.

"**One minute left Winchesterrr…"** Coach's voice sounded to Sam like it was coming from underwater.

He gasped.

'_**Help me…pleeeeeeease…somebody…'**_ The helpless girl's frantic scream was deafening him.

He ran.

"**Sam…Sam…Sam…Sammmmm…" **The roaring chant from the crowd drummed inside his head, almost driving him to his knees with its intensity.

Suddenly someone jumped on him and they tripped, landing hard enough to drive the breath from Sam's lungs. Sam blinked a couple of times to focus his blurred vision, finally making out the face of 'big bad' Freddy from Parkrose High School grinning down at him. The rival **'Whitebulls'** team member pinned him to the ground and pried the ball from his shaking hands.

"**Nnoooooo…"** the crowd shouted.

31 seconds left.

**Flash**- _the girl screamed as someone slit her throat_- _**'Nnnoooo'**_-_and someone laughed_- **flash**-

"Nooooo…" Sam screamed and forced his eyes staring at his opponent.

"Your team is finished Winchester…" Freddy smirked, and Sam saw the boy's whole face undulating in front of his eyes like he was looking through a shimmering heat haze.

'**Sammmm…'** the whole team and crowd roared.

"Stop it."

'**Winchester, 20 seconds left…we are losing'** Coach Adam's frantic shout came out of nowhere.

"Noo…" Sam cried aloud.

'_**Help me…'**_ the hostage girl's screams again rushed in his head.

'**Your team is finished Winchester…'**

'_**Help me…'**_

"**Winchester…go…"**

"**Sam…Sam… Sammmm…"**

'_**Your team is finished…'**_

'_**Help me…'**_

"**STTTTOOOOOOOOOPPPPP ITTTTT…"** Sam let out a guttural scream and shot his hands forward.

It all happened in a flash. One second Freddy was holding the ball and getting up off Sam's chest, and in the next he was suddenly thrown back hard, grunting in pain as he landed. The ball flew from his hand and was tossed upward.

"Sam, catch the ball…Sammmm…" The other teammates and Coach cried in chorus.

'10 seconds…'

'9 seconds…'

'_**Your team is finished Winchester…'**_

Despite the agonizing pain, Sam shot up and ran backwards to catch the ball.

'7 seconds…'

Sam caught the ball.

"**Ohhhh…"** A humming chorus came again from the audience as they all stood up in extreme agitation and nervousness.

'5 seconds…'

"We're losing it…"

"It's impossible to basket the ball. Sam's too far away from the net…" Coach's frustrated voice faltered.

'_**Help me…'**_

Suddenly Sam threw the ball towards the basket, gathering his entire force and aiming it at the net. The ball was running with an unnatural speed, much faster than it should be…

'3 seconds…'

The ball crashed into the wall just above the net with a loud thump…

'2 seconds…'

'1 sec…'

-

-

-

"**Yeeeeaaaahhhh…"** just before the time up alarm buzzed, the ball dropped into the basket and everyone screamed. The players, coach and audience still could not believe just what had happened before their very eyes. When they all lost hope that Gresham High School's team would win, Sam Winchester had done it. He managed to basket the ball in the eleventh hour and 'Hollywood Knights' won an unexpected victory.

Speaking of Sam…

Caught up in the ecstasy of winning, the whole school and team had forgotten about their ultimate hero, who had sunk to his knees on the field, his head dropping to his chest. His hands were now hanging limply at his sides. Long chocolate brown bangs shielded the upper half of his face. His chest was heaving as he took shallow ragged breaths.

Suddenly Sam was jolted back into awareness as hands grabbed his arms and legs. His team mates and friends had descended upon him. Caught up in the joy of celebrating their victory, they hoisted their hero and leader aloft and tossed him into the air.

Sam's head spun as he became airborne. Those white flashes and the girl's screams were still replaying in his brain, the images and sound so intense that he could not breathe—could not speak. He wanted to tell his friends to stop tossing him like he was a basket ball himself, but no words issued from his dry mouth. He was feeling so lethargic after 'that sudden outburst and shoving Freddy without touching'. _**'What was that? What's happening with me? Who was screaming?' **_His head was throbbing like crazy, feeling as if it was going to explode anytime soon. As his body was tossed upwards again, he vaguely felt a warm thick liquid start dripping from his nose and thousands of white lights burst before his eyes.

"Coach, something is wrong," Sarah, one of Sam's classmates finally noticed that Sam was unusually quiet during this ministration. The way his long limbs jerked boneless with each tossing and catching session, it looked like they were tossing a rag-doll instead of a human body. And most shocking to the girl was that Sam wasn't even responding. "Something's wrong with Sam." She pointed a finger towards the gang.

Coach Adams jolted in shock as he took in the way Sam's body hung limply in his teammates' grasp. One quick look at the boy's lolling head told the man instantly that something was definitely wrong. "Oh my god," he screamed and ran to the group, "Put him down, boys! Put Sam down on the ground, quick!"

The boys who, were playing with Sam suddenly realized that something was wrong with their buddy. "Oh my God, Sam," they frantically chorused. as they carefully put him down on the hard indoor playground. Sam's face was deathly pale, crimson liquid still flowing from his nose and smearing all over his right cheek. His eyes were tightly closed and he was struggling to breathe.

"Sam? Sam, open your eyes, boy!" The coach crouched beside the unconscious boy and tapped his cheek gently. After getting no response from Sam, he shouted at the anxious group,

"Call a doctor, quick."

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

***Coughs-coughs*** **Ahem-** **sorry, that cliffie's really left me breathless. So, want me to continue or should I……………………………………………………………………………………………..Trash it!**

**Let me know and you know how to do it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N 1: - I wanted to say thank you to everyone that takes the time to review. I hope you're enjoying it and** **continue to review as you read. And, reviews are the only way I know how I'm doing.**

**A/N 2: - This chapter's dedicated to my sweet friend "Soncnica"…'Happy Belated Birthday'...Yaar!**

**

* * *

**

**POWER SURGE

* * *

**

It was almost past six in the evening and the boy still hadn't regained consciousness. Coach Adams fidgeted nervously and spared a wary glance at the kid who was now lying on the white patient bed at the school's nurse's station. It had been almost an hour since the awful accident happened. Most of the other students had returned to their homes; only Sarah and Scott were still there, reluctant to go home until they knew that Sam was going to be okay.

The doctor checked on his young patient as soon he had arrived and was situated on the bed. After a quick and thorough examination, the doctor declared that Sam's blood pressure was just too high for his liking and it was causing him to suffer from some mild pressure in his head. That was the main reason for Sam's loss of consciousness and nose bleed.

"He is going to be okay, isn't he?" Coach Adams sounded nervous after hearing the doctor's diagnosis.

"Apparently, he is." The doctor assured him and gave the insensate teenager a shot in his forearm. "But, he needs to take it real easy for a couple of days." He took a note from the BP machine and jotted something on the prescription. "His blood pressure is just too high, the count showing 160 over 120. For a young kid like him, this type of hypertension is the last thing he needs."

"Does he need to be checked into a hospital?" Coach's voice sounded anxious. He moved closer to the bed and touched the teen's clammy and sweaty forehead.

The doctor checked Sam's pupils and listened to the boy's heart with the stethoscope. "Well, it would be good for his health if he gets checked out in a hospital. But what happened to him today was due to extreme stress and fatigue. Besides, you told me that he took a nasty fall during the game, which could be one of the reasons." The doctor handed him a prescription and smiled, "Don't worry; he will be alright in no time. His body needs rest and that's why he is still unconscious. He was under a lot of pressure if I am not mistaken?" The kind doctor asked the game teacher.

"Yes." Mr. Adams wiped his mouth with a weary hand before continuing. "He was working extremely hard on his study and the final exam had just ended last week. Then he was over-practicing for the semi-final basket ball match, which we won unexpectedly today…" he smirked tiredly, "…all thanks to him. The way he made the final score was unbelievable. If I didn't know better, I would have to think some invisible force was behind it. You should have seen the game, Doc, it was unbelievable."

"Sometimes an extreme adrenaline rush can cause this kind of situation, Mr. Adams. He was under a lot of pressure and…"

Suddenly a whimper from the patient cut off their conversation and they hurried toward him. Sam was moaning and tossing his head on the pillow. His pupils were moving rapidly underneath his closed eyelids as though he was having a nightmare.

"No, no…help her, please…no…no…" Sam was mumbling incoherently.

"Sam, it's okay boy. You're alright." The doctor tried to calm the clearly agitated boy, using a soothing tone.

But Sam didn't seem to be listening to anyone; he continued to thrash in the bed. His body was twitching violently with each increasing whimper.

"No, don't…don't…please…no…help…help…he's gonna kill her, somebody help her…Dean…" Sam screamed and shot up on the bed. His whole body was trembling like someone had been shocking him.

"Sam, look at…" A sudden flickering noise cut Mr. Adams voice off and he looked upward. Without warning, all of the lights in the room started blinking and then completely turned off.

"What the…" The doctor and teacher both muttered in chorus as darkness claimed the small confined room. The doctor pulled a small torch from his jacket and focused on his patient who sat on the bed; knees drawn towards his chest and both palms pressed tightly against his temples.

As if on cue; water bottles, pills, glass receptacles and other small items began to rattle as if shaken by an unseen hand. Shocked into silence, the men stared at the wildly jittering objects, icy fingers of fear crawling along their spines as they realized that no wind or other outside force was causing the movement.

Suddenly, the door burst open and the shadow of someone came into view. A tall, well-built young man ran towards the bed and pulled the panic stricken boy into his embrace-

"Sammy!"

* * *

"Are you gonna help me to move him or just stand there and stare at me forever?" Logan's gruff voice barked in the silent room.

Brad startled and swallowed nervously, as his psycho pal bellowed and glared at him. He still could not believe that an innocent girl got savagely murdered in front of his very eyes. A thick trail of blood was still flowing sluggishly from her gaping throat.

"Oh come on, wake up from your reverie, wouldja!" He didn't wait for his almost catatonic friend to help and pulled a large polythene bag from a trunk. "We gotta sal' n burn that b*tch's body and track the other psychos who are wandering freely in this town." He was mostly talking to himself. Grabbing the dead body unmercifully by its hair, he pushed it into the bag.

"Now, will you make the pyre or stand there like a dumbas*?"

Logan's annoyed tone jolted Brad into action. He nodded uneasily and jogged towards the exit.

After torching the poor girl's body, the hunter duo came back to their den and sat on the chairs. A couple of whiskey bottles were placed on the small table haphazardly along with a pair of tumblers.

Logan filled both tumblers with raw whiskey and shoved one to his friend.

"Cheers." He gulped almost half of the glass and smirked deliriously. "Job's well done. Time to ce…elebrate."

Brad was fiddling with the glass. He was not feeling good. God, how could he feel like celebrating? His so called boss rather than friend just murdered a kid, who had done no harm to anyone. God knew what that freak was going to do now?

"Wh…at? You're not gonna dr…driiink that?" Logan's voice slurred as the liquor was taking a hold on him.

"No, I mean…" Brad couldn't find any word to answer. He knew his friend in blood and bone. If Logan set his mind on something, he wouldn't stop until he succeeded. And deep down, Brad was a little afraid of him. It was sure that they were both hunters, but Logan was way more burly and aggressive than him. Brad was actually more his subordinate than a partner. Logan was a cold blooded murderer who would shoot anyone without any hesitation.

"Look Brad," Logan blinked drunkenly, "I know what you're thinking. And you know we a…ain't any bad guys. We are on a mission, you understand?" With Brad nodding unsurely, he shook his head before continuing, "Killing those would-be monsters is not any sin buddy, we are doing humankind a favor. So, God forbid, you are helping me to sort things out." His eyes were somewhat cold and deadly serious. "Besides, you owe me in case you haven't forgotten."

"No, I haven't." Brad swallowed sadly and looked away.

"Good, good." Logan chugged down the remaining liquid and gingerly got up off his seat. He pulled a laptop from a satchel and booted it up.

"Well, well," He smirked with quiet satisfaction, "Look what Gordon Walker has sent us?" He waved Brad to come and clicked on the touchpad.

"What?" Brad bent slightly to take a good look of the screen.

"Coordinates…" Logan jutted his chin towards the monitor and pointed a finger to a red spot which was blinking on a particular point of the map. "This is the place, where the presence of some psychic kids is found. Shawano, Wisconsin."

Brad nodded in agreement but something still was bothering him. "But, how we're gonna find them? This is a big town and among every civilian, they could be anyone."

Logan seemed to be thinking. "Yes, you're right." He rubbed his face roughly to wipe the remaining alcoholic clumsiness away and breathed exasperatedly. "We have to locate them somehow."

"But how? They are not gonna put a board on them with the quote 'look, I am the psychic kid. Come and kill me', are they?"

"Shut up." Logan snorted and picked the long scar over his left eyebrow. "How to locate those psychos, how to…"

He was mumbling to himself; suddenly his gaze fell upon those kids who lay bound in the corner and he smiled winningly.

"Got it." He spun towards his pal and clamped his palms together. "See, those psychics over there that we caught, are kids. They are not more than seventeen or eighteen. That means…" He was pacing impatiently, "…that means, if we search the schools, we sure could track those things from there."

Brad nodded in understanding. Really, Logan was way too clever for his own good.

"Okay, let's search the schools." Logan typed the possible names of schools, "I will go to one school and you take care of another one, alright! If one of us finds out something unusual about any single kid, we will inform each other instantly."

"Alright."

"It's time to hunt," the psychotic hunter laughed devilishly, "Get ready to be hunted, you psychic freaks."

* * *

It was almost dark, and a chilly wind was blowing from the north. It was almost fifty degrees Fahrenheit in the time of May. The sleek black classic Chevrolet was cruising along the almost deserted county road of Shawano. Both driver and passenger of the car were sitting quietly; the sandy haired young man's face was contorted with a concerned yet slightly annoyed frown as he snuck glances at the younger kid, who was currently avoiding his glare by focusing deeply on the passing scenery.

Dean cleared his throat intentionally to bring his brooding brother's attention to him and turned down the car stereo to a low volume.

"So," Dean started. "Want to tell me something about something?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam sighed. _**'Now, time to play twenty questions.'**_ He thought wryly and rolled his eyes, but didn't face his brother. "You already know." He voice sounded a little congested.

"Not everything." Dean smoothly swerved the car into a right turn. "The doc told me your blood pressure suddenly reached its peak. How's it even possible?" Concern was clearly showing in his voice though he was desperately trying to hide it.

Sam swallowed nervously. He knew, what happened today wasn't any coincidence. He was a healthy, athletic boy. He wasn't supposed to pass out all of a sudden from a rising blood pressure. Besides, it wasn't the first time he was overdoing things because of his schedule. He always worked hard for his studies, physical trainings and not to mention research and enormous hunts that his father had been dragging him into since he was a kid. He had never suffered any major illness, well, if you didn't count migraines as an illness.

Sam unconsciously touched his still aching temple. The severe pain was gone now, but a drumming sensation was still nagging inside his skull. The outside view was passing like a whip, making him a little dizzy. He closed his eyes fore second and…

The girl's face flashed in front of his vision.

_**Help.**_

Sam audibly gasped and shot up straight in the seat. He startled and turned his face to his brother when Dean laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You okay Sam?" Dean asked as he slowed the car down a little.

"Yeah," Sam breathed audibly, "yeah, I'm fine. I am fine."

'_**Okay, repeated answer. That means he isn't fine.' **_Dean mentally confirmed and asked his little brother with bit more pressure, "Sam, what aren't you telling me?"

"I told you," Sam sounded irritated, "The game was hard. One of the players shoved me and knocked me off my feet." He was talking with clenched teeth accompanied with knitted eyebrows. _**'God, can he never stop his interrogation?'**_ "I hurt my back and head a little and blacked out for some time. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

'_**Okay, erratic behavior.'**_ Dean bit the inside of his cheek before continuing. "Sam, it was not a little case of blackout. You were unconscious for almost an hour for God's sake."

Sam huffed angrily. _**'Man, my big brother is being so pushy'**_.

Dean noticed but ignored his brother's crappy attitude. "Besides, you were bleeding from your nose. The way you were screaming when I got there wasn't usual, was it?"

"I was having a nightmare." Sam's voice was deep and rough.

"You always have nightmares, but they're never that bad."

"Dean…"

"Sam, what aren't you telling me?" Dean demanded. _**'The little b*tch is being a brat.'**_ He thought quite angrily.

"Where's Dad?" Sam deliberately tried to ignore the constant questions which were being thrown at him in waves.

"At home and p*ssed." _**'The brat is ignoring me.'**_ Dean gripped the wheel hardly and again started, only to be instantly cut off by his sibling.

"When isn't he ever p*ssed at me?"

"Sam," Dean's tone was low but he was gradually getting angry now. _**'Come on, Sam, I'm trying to help you out here. Don't act like a stupid spoiled brat…'**_

"**STOP IT**!" Suddenly Sam screamed and clamped both hands against his head. "Stop it!" He was gritting his teeth so hard like they were going to break, if he pressed further. "Stop calling me a **brat!** Stop it!" Angry tears were started leaking from the corner of his eyes, "Stop it!"

Dean was completely dumbfounded. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to do or say. "I didn't…" He had never called Sam a **'brat'**. Well sure, he thought about it a couple of times, but never said it out loud.

Suddenly Dean was pulled from his confused reverie as a retching sound came from Sam's throat and he quickly killed the engine. Before he could stop the car completely, Sam fumbled with the door handle and wrenched it open.

"Sam, slow down." Dean cried in extreme fear, but it was already late. Sam toppled out of the still rolling car and fell hard on his side.

Dean parked the car haphazardly at the side of the almost empty road and ran towards his brother. Sam on the other hand, somehow managed to pull himself partially on his knees as he started retching violently. The little lunch he had eaten before the game, came out in the form of hot bile as he heaved. Shivers were wracking his lean frame, hot tears breaking from his eyes from sheer exhaustion.

The girl's fretful face came again with a flash, along with the silhouette of a burly man who was laughing in front of her.

_**Help.**_

Sam's head almost exploded with extreme agony and he vomited once again. Dean was rubbing his back soothingly and held his head so he would not fall into his own mess.

"It's okay, it's okay Sammy. I gotcha, I gotcha little brother. Just let it out, let it out…" Dean was scared seeing his brother like this. God knew what was wrong with his Sammy. He hated seeing Sam suffering like this. Dean swallowed and wrinkled his nose as the foul scent of the vomit entered his nostrils, but never moved his face in disgust. Not now, not ever, when Sam was like this; when Sam needed him.

He sighed in relief when Sam's heaving seemed to dissipate. He pulled his brother into a hug when he felt Sam slump onto him, as his entire energy drained away from his body. Dean pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the excessive sweat that was forming on his brother's face and neck.

"D'n?"

Dean looked at his sibling's face. "Sammy, are you feeling okay now little brother?" His concern became tenfold as he saw a tiny droplet of blood leaking from Sam's nose. He wiped it with his hanky, his hands shaking. When Sam didn't answer him and stared at him with half open glazed eyes, he shook the boy lightly. "What is it, Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam blinked owlishly, his hazels glistening.

"Dean?"

"Yes Sammy, I'm here. I'm here. Tell me, what's wrong with you?"

"Help her." Sam's voice was now barely audible. His eyes were drooping.

Dean shook him again and patted him lightly on the cheek. "Hey hey hey, look at me. Help who Sam? Sammy, don't go sleep on me. Sam!"

Sam once again tiredly opened his eyes. He was feeling extremely lethargic. He just wanted to sleep, but Dean was not letting him.

"H'lp her." His voice slurred. "He…he's gonna kill h'r. h'lp…" Sam wouldn't even finish his sentence before oblivion pulled him into the tunnel leading to a dark abyss.

"Sam? Sammy, wake up." Dean was now beyond scared. He had never seen Sam like this. He had seen Sam injured before, getting snatched by vampires, kidnapped by a _Strigoilor* _Creature; but this time he had absolutely no clue. Why his brother was acting like that, whom he was talking about, when he said to save her; how he heard the words that Dean hadn't even uttered, was all a complete mystery to the elder brother. Dean shook his head nervously and tried to wake Sam once again, but Sam was truly out for the count. He mentally wrestled with the decision, if he should take him to the hospital or home.

After settling his mind, Dean snaked one arm between Sam's armpits and supported his chest with the other. After straightening himself, he gently heaved Sam onto his feet and dragged the boy to the car.

"C'mon Sammy, let's getcha' back to the motel."

After settling his brother safely into the car, Dean ran to the driver's side and revved the engine. He was only ten minutes away from their current motel. All he wanted to do was take Sammy home as fast as he could, so he and his father could take care of him and sort things out. He sighed and looked at his slumbering brother.

"What's wrong with you Sammy?"

* * *

"Like I told you, Dave," Mr. Paul Adams put his beer bottle on the bar table and leaned towards his friend. "If you've seen it, you would have believed me." He shook his head in wonder. "The last score he made was unbelievable. If I didn't know better, I would'a thought there was some invisible forces behind it."

"Paul! I think you're drunk." The other person laughed at his friend's antics.

Mr. Adams blinked his eyes a couple of times to clear his bleariness. "No no no no no, I…I am…not dr'nk. I am telling you the truth. Be…believe me. I am not druuunk."

None of them had ever noticed that a pair of brown eyes was scrutinizing them from another booth. The observer was smoking, a couple of empty bottles of tequila scattered on the table in front of him.

Suddenly he noticed that the man, who had been talking about something weird happening, had gotten up and was heading to the exit door. Quickly standing, the observer smashed his remaining cigarette to the ashtray and followed him. He trudged towards the man named Mr. Adams and ran into him.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't see you." He apologized.

"'sss kay pal." Mr. Adam was heavily drunk. His legs were almost entangling with each other as he blinked to clear his vision. "No probs."

"Okay, then. Have a nice time." The man smiled crookedly and guided the drunken one to the exit.

"Thhh…enk yoww. See ya." Mr. Adams waved him good bye and headed towards his destination singing something unrecognizable.

The man smirked mirthlessly and opened the wallet which he had slipped from the drunken man's pocket. There was some money and an identity card.

"Mr. Paul Adams, Gresham High School. Game coach, hmmm." He nodded in satisfaction, "Looks like I have found my first location." He pocketed the cash and identity card and threw the wallet on the road. "We will meet again soon, Mr. Adams. I need some information and looks like you know something about something."

Suddenly his cell phone rang. He flipped open the lid and saw the name showing on screen.

"Yeah, Brad. What you got?"

"_I think I've got information about a boy who could be psychic."_

"That's good. I think I have found something too. Did you get the name?"

"_Yes."_

"What it is?"

"_It's Andrew Galla…gha…Gallagher."

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_

**TBC

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**Okay…..did you expect this twist? **

**Please, take a moment to leave a review and tell me what you think! I appreciate all of your comments. Thanks in advance!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N :- ****I just want to say how much I've appreciated the reviews and private messages I've received. ****This fandom is really so supportive and inspiring – Thanks a bunch.**

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**POWER SURGE**

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The more minutes passed by, the more agitated John became. It was almost seven in the evening; still his boys had not showed up. He wearily rubbed his stubbled face, exhaustion taking a hold of him. He was beyond tired; he had just come back from Nebraska after hunting down a nest of vampires with Joshua. And, believe it or not, the hunt wasn't easy. They had decapitated nearly the whole bunch of blood-sucking freaks; but there had been a glitch.

One of the vampires had gotten away from them and they'd failed to catch it. It was a young vampire; as in it seemed as though the other blood-suckers had just turned him. John was kind of astonished seeing that most of the vampires of the nest were young; not more than twenty or twenty-two. The way the people were continuously going missing from the town, the hunters had been sure something supernatural was behind all those kidnappings. And at last, they'd found the main reason for the kidnapping and with a combination of dead man's blood and sharp machetes; they finally won the battle of human against supernatural. The two hunters had tried to find that escaped vampire, but could not locate him and that had left John Winchester kind of restless and grouchy.

John had rarely failed in hunting things, but this time he let that vampire escape from his clutches just as the shtriga had almost thirteen years ago. After a state-wide search, he still hadn't found any clue as to where the damned vampire had gotten himself hidden. That had been almost three days ago.

Then, he got another call from Bobby about another hunt in Wisconsin where his boys were currently staying. Something was stealing dead bodies and young children. Eyewitnesses had found graves in the local cemeteries clawed open, and scattered corpses looking as if something had feasted on the remains. Some of the dead bodies were missing and others left in their coffins half-eaten. As if that wasn't bad enough, children were also being snatched from their schools or houses without their elders being aware, their bodies found later in the woods near the main cemetery. The bodies had been stripped clean down to the bone – flesh and blood all but gone, scratches and what looked like gnaw-marks on the tiny skeletons. People of the town were freaking out and police didn't have any clue as to what had been murdering them.

John had driven almost two days straight to get back to Wisconsin. He'd also called Dean and Sam and ordered them to take a look at the local cemetery and do some research into what might be killing those kids. Well, he had told Sam in particular to do the researches and that had been one day ago. Dean, as he had been ordered by his father, patrolled the whole area and dug one of the graves completely by himself while Sam had been in school studying, playing, and enjoying time with his friends.

When John had finally arrived back home; only Dean had been there. The elder boy had been cleaning and re-arranging weapons and waiting for his dad to return. Sam was at the school because apparently today he had his so-called 'basketball semi final,' match to play. Obviously the research hadn't been done, and time was running out.

John sighed exasperatedly as the thoughts of previous days flooded his head. God, he was so tired and now he had a hunt to be finished. But how! His youngest hadn't done a single bit of research. And to make matters worse, they'd gotten a phone call from Sam's school to say that his son Sam had been injured during the game. _**'A damn Game'**_ John though vehemently and punched the table in frustration.

"What I'm gonna do with this boy? He never listens to us." John booted up his son's laptop and started surfing. He looked at his watch again _**'damn, where are they?'**_ and got up from his seat. Opening a drawer in the kitchen cupboard, he picked up a small plastic container with a tiny nail-like object inside it. Distractedly, he walked back to the table, coming to a sudden halt as someone knocked at the door.

"Who's this?" He put the object down and grabbed his gun from his waistband.

"Dad, its Dean. Open up."

John sighed and hurried to the door. He almost gasped in shock as he saw his oldest son was practically carrying his youngest. Sam was looking really haggard; exhaustion was clearly showing on his expressive face. Eyes half open, he looked at his father and tried to say something, but extreme fatigue didn't let him. Dean heaved his brother a little higher on his feet as Sam leaned heavily against him.

"Dad, a little help would be nice." Dean managed to ask, eliciting a small cocky smile.

Raising his eyebrows with a bit of annoyance, John moved beside Sam and put his other arm over his shoulder.

"What happened, Dean?"

"Erm…" They moved their ailing youngest to the farthest bed of the room and carefully deposited him on it. "He fell during the game, Dad. He hurt his back a little." Dean removed Sam's shoes and put a blanket over his body.

"I can't believe he hurt himself in a freakin' game!" John shouted, making Sam cringe as the pain of his headache spiked into his skull.

Dean saw Sam grimace in pain and immediately rubbed a comforting hand on his forehead. "Shh, its okay Sammy. It's okay."

Sam seemed to relax a bit and nuzzled deeper into the pillow. Dean clenched his teeth and looked at his father with an annoyed expression.

"Can't you just wait a minute? He's really not feeling well," Dean growled in a low voice.

John was now clearly angry. How could Sam be irresponsible like that? He hurt himself in a frigging game and looked like he had escaped from a car wreck. He gritted his teeth. He did not want to get angry with Sam or show his resentment right now; but he was exhausted, and that made him short-tempered. And after the events of the previous hunt, coupled with the urgency of this current one, he needed the boys to be on the ball. But now that Sam was injured, how could John take him or leave him on his own? He needed both Dean and Sam for back-up, for Pete's sake.

"And who the hell is responsible for that?" John's voice didn't turn down a bit. He had lots of things running in his head, lots of problems left to be solved. He clenched his fists. "He knows we shouldn't get hurt like that. We can't afford any kind of injuries when it comes to being a hunter. If we don't take care of ourselves, then how are we gonna save innocent people?" John's voice was booming into that small motel room.

"Dad, stop it." Dean tried to calm his father down.

John opened his mouth to let out another tirade, but halted when his youngest son whimpered and curled into a ball. He was clearly in pain, and John could see that.

'_**Damn it.'**_John mentally cussed and swallowed his anger down. _**'Damn it Sammy! When're you gonna listen?'**_

"Pl'se," A pain-riddled mumble came out from Sam's mouth, though his eyes were still tightly closed. "Pl'se Dad, pl's…"

Dean frowned at his little brother as Sam moaned. Something was nagging inside his head, something wrong was definitely going on with his brother and Dean was considering if he should tell his father or not. Deciding that John should know about this, he quietly said, "Dad, I have something to tell you." He walked toward the kitchen, with John following him.

"What's wrong Dean?"

Dean hesitated for a minute. He wasn't sure about the incident that had happened in the middle of the road. Did Sam really hear his thoughts? How could his nightmares be that vivid, and how could he be having those dreams when he wasn't even sleeping. Something was very, very wrong and Dean didn't have a single clue about that.

"Dad, I think something's wrong with Sammy."

* * *

Sam wasn't quite sleeping; the blinding headache pounding inside his skull prevented him from drifting off completely. He remembered that Dean had taken him back home and tucked in the bed. He was also aware of the presence and highly p*ssed off mood of his father, and knew that the Winchester patriarch was blaming him for everything. Someone turned off the light and Sam sensed his dad and brother leave the room, but he could still hear the heated conversation which was carrying on in the kitchen.

"_What? You're telling me that your brother can read your thoughts now?"_ His father's voice sounded unsure, rather annoying.

Sam bit his lip and slowly sat up on the bed.

"_What happened today, Dad…"_ Dean's voice trailed off in worry and concern, _"…it left me completely freaked out. First, he was suffering from a vivid nightmare when I reached the school and he kept telling me to help someone; some girl."_

Sam could hear his father blow a frustrated huff, and guessed what was coming next. And unfortunately, he was right.

"_Well Dean, he was faking. You know your brother, right! He didn't want to research for the hunt like I ordered him to. He kept talking about some valedictorian celebration that he would organize tomorrow in his school and he will have to participate in it…"_

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he heard his father's harsh words. He had never thought that his dad had such low opinion about him. How could he say that he was faking so he wouldn't have to hunt? He angrily brushed some wayward tears from his cheeks and got off the bed.

"Dad, you know Sammy wouldn't do such a thing. He wouldn't…"

Dean's voice cut off as his father interrupted.

"Dean, I know what the boy is trying to do. He always wants attention. He always gets by hook or by crook whatever he wants. I think I've given him way too much freedom and that's why…"

John stopped his tirade as he felt someone standing at the kitchen doorstep and spun quickly.

"Sam?"

Sam stood like a clay model at the door. His face was emotionless, lips firmly closed. He remained stoic for a couple of seconds, then walked slowly toward his father and held out some papers.

"Here. These are the research papers for the hunt you were talking about."

Sam's voice sounded foreign to Dean's ears and he could see the dried tracks of tears on his baby brother's face.

John was shocked speechless.

"Sam, I…I…"

"The things that are stealing children and feeding on corpses are ghouls. I did some research in the morning and with that clue that Dean had found from the graveyard, it confirms that this nail belongs to that kind of creature."

Sam's voice was husky and he kept his eyes lowered the entire time.

John didn't know what to say. He was feeling guilty as hell for accusing his youngest son of not doing any research, only to find that his so-called _irresponsible_ son had already done his part in the hunt. He looked at his oldest son who now looked royally p*ssed off, sandy brows arched high on his forehead. John watched Sam put the papers on the table top and turn to leave the room.

"Sammy listen…"

"I'll be ready tomorrow for the hunt, sir. Just tell me when we should leave," Sam softly answered.

Dean bowed his head in resentment that his brother was now feeling this way. He just wanted to punch something; mentally he wished it could be his father's mouth. He knew Sammy had eavesdropped on their conversation and it was totally their father's fault that Sam's feelings were hurt.

"But Sammy, your valedictorian speech…" Dean tried to make the situation a little better for his brother but realized he'd failed miserably when he saw the flat denial on Sam's face.

"I won't go." Dean could swear that he heard Sammy choke back a sob. "I'll be ready and prepared for the hunt when you need me."

John sighed. He should not have said those words about his little boy. _**'Sammy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things to you.' **_he thought but didn't utter the apology out loud. The Winchester patriarch never says 'sorry' for God's sake.

Sam stopped for a moment. He was still facing the door, his back to his father.

"It's okay Dad." John's eyes widened in astonishment as Sam spoke. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. I got what I deserve."

John opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. He stared at the younger boy's back, face slack in awe. Glancing at Dean, John noticed his eldest standing still, face masked with concern and fear.

By the time John finally found his voice, Sam had already left the room. Both elder Winchesters were still standing in shock, not knowing what to do or say.

"Dad!" Dean's unsure voice was the first to break the eerie silence of the room.

John looked mesmerized. What the heck had just happened? Did Sammy really hear his thoughts? He was sure he hadn't uttered a word, and since Sammy wasn't facing at him, that meant Sam didn't have any idea if John said this or not. Swallowing thickly, John robotically turned to Dean who still looked freaked out.

"Dean! What the hell just happened?"

Dean sank tiredly onto a chair and rested his weary head on his palms.

"I told you, Dad. Something is going on with Sammy. I told you."

"Oh God!" John clapped one hand over his mouth. Worry and concern were shimmering on his stubbled face. He started pacing aimlessly in the confined space, dropping his hand as he mused aloud, "That means, she was right. She was right about Sammy."

"Dad?" Dean got up from the chair and strode towards John. "What's wrong? What are you talking about?"

"Dean!" John looked worried. "Wh…what date is today?"

Dean bit his lip as he thought for a moment. The startling events of the day were muddling his mind and he was feeling kind of overwhelmed. Everything had happened so fast and was still happening, making him a bit lightheaded. He squeezed his eyes shut to recall the date.

"First…first May, why?"

John swallowed and all he could mutter were three words.

"Oh, my God."

* * *

John woke up next morning hearing the clink of metal colliding with a blunt object. The sound was coming from the living room. He groggily sat up on the bed and looked at the digital clock.

'5:30 a.m.'

John opened the adjoining room of his sons and saw Dean was sprawled on his bed. He was lying on his stomach, one hand hanging off the mattress; his mouth slack and open. John smiled at the sight of his older son. _**'Boy, he is adorable.' **_ John smiled and suddenly frowned as he noticed the other bed was empty.

"Where is Sammy?" he mumbled and walked towards the living room.

As expected, Sam was sitting on the chair. Various weapons were scattered on the table and he was sharpening a machete. His laptop was situated beside the stack of weapons; a screensaver playing on the screen. He didn't notice John's presence as he was engrossed in his work.

John also spotted some pill bottles lying around haphazardly. Once again consumed with guilt, he slowly walked to his baby son and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing up, Son?"

Sam startled heavily and looked at his father's face. John could see his boy was beyond tired but he still kept himself up for work.

"Working, Dad." Sam answered softly.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" The brown bags under Sam's eyes were too pronounced to be ignored.

"Yes Sir."

"Sammy?"

Sam remained quiet. He hadn't slept well last night, and it was quite obvious. First, he was suffering from the mother of all headaches and kept dreaming about some awful things. Plus, his father's words had hurt him more than he thought possible. He wanted to prove that he wasn't faking, and wasn't irresponsible. That he was not---worthless.

"I got some. Thanks for asking."

John sighed and plucked the weapon from Sam's hand. He hooked a chair with his right foot to drag it out from the table and sat down.

"Sammy, I'm really sorry for what I said you last night. I just got…" John searched for right words. "… a bit excited. Those ghouls are dangerous and the way they're kidnapping children, that made me worried. When I got home and found you weren't here with Dean, I thought the research hadn't been done. I didn't know that you'd already done it."

Sam looked at his father's face, clear confusion written in his hazel orbs. He could not believe that it was actually his father saying all these good things to him.

"I am sorry Sammy."

"It's okay Dad."

"And by the way, don't you have a valedictorian ceremony today at your school? My boy is the valedictorian of the year? Whoa, that's such good news." John's face was beaming with pride. He knew his boy was brilliant, but never thought he could be so scary smart.

"No, Dad. It's okay. I'd rather go on the hunt." Sam's face was unreadable.

"No, listen Sam." John knew what Sam was thinking. He was still upset, and it was up to John to make the situation better. "You have to go. I can manage the hunt, son. I'll call a fellow hunter who is fortunately staying in this town. He called me last night. You go and participate in your program, Sammy," John smiled, dimples showing through his beard. "and it's not often a Winchester gets a scholarship for his brilliancy."

Sam's face was lit up by a hundred mega-watt dimpled smile. He couldn't believe his own ears that his father was saying this, and smiling.

Out of excitement, Sam shot up from his seat and hugged his father.

John's heart warmed up as his beloved, grown up, taller than himself son embraced him like he was still that little chubby toddler. This was the thing about Sammy he loved the most. That boy was never afraid to show his emotion, love and affection. He hugged Sam back and ruffled his hair.

"Now go, Sammy, you should practice your speech now, buddy."

Sam smiled again innocuously and headed to his room.

"Sam listen."

John's voice made him halt mid-way. Turning to his father, Sam asked, "Yeah, Dad?"

"Happy Birthday, son."

Sam's soft hazel eyes seemed to be glistening a little. It was not often his father showed affection for his boy this much. Swallowing nervously, Sam guessed that something was going on, knowing his Dad would not have done such things. He could clearly read it in John's eyes that his father was scared. Scared for him. Sam knew there was something seriously wrong with him. He knew Dean was worried, too. Lowering his eyes to prevent his overflowing emotions from being seen by his father, he settled for smiling shyly.

"Thanks Dad."

John watched his youngest son retreat back to his room and sighed. He slumped on the chair feeling completely drained, and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

"'_elo?"_

"It's me, John."

"_Winchester? It's been a long time since you called me."_

"You were right." John swallowed a growing lump in his throat and continued. "It's started."

"_John, honey, listen to me. Everything's gonna be fine. Just keep your eyes open and look after the boy. Just bring him to me as soon as you can, you got that, John?"_

"It's…it's his birthday." John's voice trembled; he swept his free hand through his brown hair.

"_I know. Just look after him. He is so vulnerable right now, and wolves are there outside waiting for him. Just call me if things get worse."_

"I will. Thanks…thanks, Missouri."

"_Anytime John. Just take care of Sammy."_

"I will. He's my baby boy, Missouri. Don't tell me I might have to…"

"_No. No John. Don't even try to think about that. Nothing bad is gonna happen to that boy as long you and Dean are there. You hear me clear, Johnny?"_

A faint sad smile ghosted across John's lips. He sighed and wiped away some wayward tears. "I do."

He cut the call and stared at his phone for a long time. A thousand thoughts and emotions were playing inside his head. So engrossed was he in his own misery, he didn't even notice a figure was standing outside the kitchen and eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation.

"Oh Mary, show me some light. I can't lose Sammy. I can't lose my baby boy."

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**TBC**

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**I like John. he's not a bad Dad as everyone thinks he is. Okay, chick flick moment is over, now get ready for some action which is coming up next. **

**Reviews are love. ****Spread the love!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: - I want to thank everyone ****who reviewed, sent me a message, or put this story on alert. ****Your support is overwhelming, inspiring and very much appreciated. ****I** **can't tell you what a great feeling it is to see that people are reading and reviewing what I write. ****I'm glad that you're all enjoying this story---and that's my aim. Love you all.**

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**POWER SURGE**

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Sam was sitting in bed with his laptop on his knees. Various papers and books were scattered everywhere, occupying almost half of the space of his small queen bed. He was reading something intently on the screen.

"Ashley Houston, age 18," Frowning, Sam scrolled down the page and kept reading. "…disappeared over a week ago and police or investigators still don't have any clue where she is. They aren't sure if she was abducted because no ransom has been…" He screwed his eyes shut and leaned against the headboard. A weary sigh escaped from his slightly parted lips. He still had a headache pounding against his temples and although he had taken his usual medication, but it did not seem to be abating.

"God," Sam huffed in annoyance and massaged his aching forehead. "This migraine will kill me one day." He whispered and blindly scrambled for his pill bottle which he thought was lying around on the bed, somewhere among the messes he had made.

"Are you looking for this, sparky?"

Sam jerked his head up and instantly winced in pain. "Ahh, man!"

Seeing his brother grimace in pain, Dean quickly moved to Sam's side and sat on the bed facing him. Concern was written all over his handsome face.

"Sammy, you okay? You still have those headaches?"

Sam breathed through the pain and gritted his teeth.

"Don't do this again." The younger boy's palms were still pressed to his temple.

Dean stared at his little brother quite nervously. Resisting the urge to brush some wayward hair from Sam's forehead, he uncapped the bottle and shook out two little white pills.

"Here, take these," Dean instructed, still looking at Sam with a frown on his face.

Sam opened his eyes partway; eyebrows knotted together, and took those pills gratefully Swallowing them with a gulp of water, he glanced at his big brother who was watching him like a hawk.

Sighing, Sam put the laptop down on the bed and looked coldly at Dean.

"Dean, don't do this."

"What am I doing?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Don't look at me like I'm some kinda' freak."

"I'm not looking at you like anything. Why would I do that?"

"Be-because," Sam's voice wavered a little. "The things that had been happening to me lately, everyone sure will think I am nutcase or something." Sam sounded a little depressed.

Dean's heart was beating fast. He was kind of prepared for this situation he felt would come soon. He was well aware that something wrong was happening with his little brother and after eavesdropping on his father's one-sided conversation with Missouri, Dean had been firmly convinced of it.

"_**It's started."**_

Dean shuddered as he recalled his father's words to Missouri. Damn, his Dad had sounded real worried.

"…_**he's my baby boy, Missouri. Don't tell me I might have to…"**_

Dean closed his eyes and tried to shake the wrong thought away from his mind. His Dad didn't know that he had been listening in. Dean hadn't meant to do that, but unfortunately he'd heard that. And when he realized that his Sammy was involved in this conversation with the psychic lady Missouri, that meant it was serious. Sammy might be in danger and he swore to himself, if it concerned Sam then he would go to the ends of the earth to save his brother from whatever danger might be awaiting him. But first, he would have to make Sammy open up to him. If Sam didn't talk about what was bothering him, Dean could not do much to help.

"_**It's his birthday."**_

Dean startled as Sam got up from the bed and headed toward his duffel. He watched Sam's hunched back as he busily retrieved his jeans and shirts. Swallowing the lump that threatened to choke him, Dean cleared his throat and spoke.

"Sammy, you are not a freaking nut-job or something. I don't think that way." He crouched behind his brother and put one hand over his shoulder. "And I'm sure, Dad doesn't even think that way too."

Sam's back stiffened as he held his breath for a couple of seconds. **'I know'** he thought combing his long silky hair with his fingers and looking at his big brother over his shoulder.

"Dean?" Sam started; uneasiness clearly forming in his voice. He awkwardly cleared his throat and Dean frowned.

"What is it, Sam?"

"I…umm…" Sam turned his face from his brother and swallowed. "If…if something happens to me, I want you to know that…" Sam's voice cut off as Dean gasped in horror and spun his brother so he could face him.

"Sammy? Wha…what are you talking about? What's gonna happen?" Dean was yammering in both frustration and fear. Why had his brother said something like this out of nowhere? "What aren't you telling me?"

Sammy chewed the inside of his cheek before continuing, "Dean, I don't know what has been happening with me. I…I'm having those weird dreams when I'm not even asleep and," Sam stammered a bit. "and…"

"And what Sam?"

Pausing for a moment, Sam spoke again, "They're not like normal dreams, Dean. Not just a normal nightmare."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked anxiously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I…I don't know. They're more vivid and prominent like…" Sam looked up high as he was trying to avoid Dean's gaze and swallowed nervously. "…like I'm watching them happening in front of my very eyes. More like _premonitions_."

Dean's breath caught into his throat. What the hell was his brother talking about? Premonitions! _Premonitions_, where a person sees another's death before it happens? His heart was like hammering again his chest. No, no, no, no. His brother wasn't some kinda crazy psychic kid. NO.

"Sammy!" Too caught up in the moment, it was the only word he could muster.

Sam nodded as if he understood Dean's state of mind. Getting up quietly with his belongings, Sam halted for a moment.

"Dean, I know Dad is worried about me too. I…I saw his face, Dean. But I don't want him or you to worry about me so much. I can…can handle…"

His voice trailed off as Dean interrupted. "No Sammy, you can't tell me not to worry about you. You're…" Swallowing, he continued, "…you're my little brother and I have the right to worry. So, don't tell me not to. You and me, we're in this together, you got that!" Dean smiled mirthlessly. "You know the drill, right? As long I'm around…"

"Nothing bad is gonna happen to me." Sam smiled, feeling a little relieved after opening his heart to his best friend, his big brother—Dean. He knew things were spiraling out of control and what he had seen the previous night in his nightmare, was horrible. It had completely taken his breath away. Sam closed his eyes and shuddered…no no no, he couldn't tell Dean what he had seen. Dean would be devastated. He didn't want Dean to get more upset than he already was.

Momentarily lost in his own thoughts, Sam was suddenly jolted back into the land of the living when Dean nudged his shoulder a little.

"What?"

"I've been asking, what did you see in your…umm…vision, by the way?" Dean asked.

Sam bit his lip, mentally wrestling with his conscience as to whether he should tell Dean or not. But then he thought, that one was better than his last nightmare and it would do no harm to Dean

"Ahh well, I saw a girl."

"The girl you were talking about in the car?"

Now Sam seemed surprised. He could not recall if he had ever mentioned his vision to his brother before.

"How did you know about that?"

"Well," Dean scratched his head wearily. "You were talking about a girl while you were heaving your guts out on the road yesterday." Dean smirked as Sam made a face. "Not to mention, after that, you fainted like a chick, Sammy boy, and I had to haul your skinny a** back home." Dean was trying hard to lighten the suffocating situation.

Dean's chest tightened when he saw the mock annoyed scowl forming on his brother's face. He knew Sam was trying to make light of the situation so as not to worry him, and mentally congratulated himself for the teasing which allowed him to keep his game face on in front of his baby brother. But it didn't help the churning in his gut or the icy hand of fear running down his spine - the conversation between him and his father was still too fresh in his mind.

"_**Dad, what are you talking about? You might have to what Dad?" Dean asked, coming out of his hiding place from the kitchen where he had been unwittingly eavesdropping on his Dad's one-sided conversation with Missouri Moseley.**_

"_**Dean? What are you…" John frowned in annoyance. "Have you been listening in?"**_

"_**Cut the crap, Dad?" Dean threw his hands in air with heavy frustration. "Just tell me what you know about Sammy? I know you sure know something about something." Dean's voice was filled with worry and fear. "You might have to what, Dad?"**_

_**John closed his eyes and sighed sadly. **_

"_**Dean, it's…well. Missouri told me something when Sammy was six months old. Back then when your mother died in that fire and I went to Missouri. When she looked at Sammy, she told me that…"**_

"Jerk." Sam's usual tease suddenly cut the mental re-calling of the conversation and snapped Dean back to the reality.

"B*tch." Came Dean's quick response, and Sam huffed.

"Okay Sammy, you have to tell me everything you saw. I only know you were talking about having to save her. Save who from whom?" Dean's tone was serious.

Sam rubbed a trembling hand across his face as a sudden wave of exhaustion swept over him, aggravating his headache tenfold.

"Ahh, it…it wasn't clear. I…I just saw a girl running, then…then someone, in some other place…slit…ahh, slit open her throat." Sam blinked back some moisture from his eyes as the poor girl's helpless pleas once again flooded his mind.

"Oh God." Dean's mouth fell open after Sam finally revealed his vision. He couldn't believe what kind of visual torture his brother had been suffered. No wonder he'd gotten sick while he was having those things replaying in his mind. "You okay Sammy?"

Sam just nodded, twice; like he was mentally steadying himself. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he turned to his big brother and smiled tightly.

"Anyways Dean, I gotta go. I have a Valedictorian speech to practice at school, remember?" Sam spoke in mock enthusiasm with the intention of lightening the atmosphere. Before he entered the bathroom, Sam turned to his brother and asked, "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Ahh, well, just wondering," Sam was not sure what Dean's reaction would be after hearing what he had to say. "Will you be at my graduation ceremony tonight?" He knew full well they had a hunt to finish, one that he was supposed to be a part of. Even though he'd been given permission to attend the school, Sam wasn't sure if his Dad would let his brother go with him or not.

"_**Don't let your brother outta your sight, Dean."**_

"_**You know Dad, I won't."**_

Dean scoffed. "Of course I'll be there, dumbo." He ruffled his brother's soft silky strands, earning himself a low growl from Sam, and grinned. "After all, this is my little brother who'll be getting some stupid scholarship because he's got a big big brain."

Sam shoved Dean's hand off his head and slammed the bathroom door in his face.

"Jerk." Dean could hear his brother's muffled voice inside the bathroom

"I heard that, b*tch." Dean's cocky smile vanished as a wave of sadness washed over him.

"Don't worry Sammy; I'll be right here beside you forever. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I won't."

* * *

**Gresham High School, Auditorium: **

It was a busy day. Students and teachers were working together for the coming evening's program. Some students were decorating the stage and arranging the chairs, mics, and sound boxes at their respective places. Teachers were supervising them, practically no one was looking at who was coming or going. Everyone was busy as bees, some preparing the whole school with colorful paper streamers and flowers, and others setting the things up at the third floor where the 'senior student's farewell party' was being organized.

A janitor was sweeping the auditorium floor, but his eyes were scanning all over the hall suspiciously, as if he was measuring every student. Some teenage girls flew past him giggling and chatting, brushing his side with the motion. The janitor sighed, scratched the scar above his left eyebrow and gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Damnit."

Suddenly, the buzzing tone of his cell phone made him jump and he cursed. Flipping it open, he saw the number showing on the screen and growled in a low but annoyed tone.

"What?"

"_Logan, I've spotted the kid, but he…umm…he got away." _Came Brad's nervous tone from the tiny speaker.

"What? How could you let him get away? He's just a kid, damnit." Logan clutched the cell phone tight as if he was going to break it.

"_I know. But FYI, he's not just a kid. He is a psychic and he can control your mind for God's sake."_

"What? Mind control?" Logan couldn't believe his own ears.

"_Yeah. When I tried to grab that Gallagher kid, he…he, I don't know how but he told me to __go away from__ him and I just…did."_

"Oh crap, he's dangerous."

"_Now, what __am I gonna do? We just can't abduct the kid. He's__ very powerful."_

Logan didn't answer. He glanced blankly at the partially busy hall and carded his fingers through his cropped hair. "Damnit, damnit, damnit." He cursed under his breath and then blurted, "Shoot him."

"_Wh…what?" _

"You heard me, Brad. If we can't catch the son of a b*tch, then shoot him and finish his game. Put a bullet into his brain and one more of the hell spawns will be out of our hunting book."

"_But…"_

"No buts." Logan growled fiercely. "We can't take the risk. Just shoot him."

"_Okay. Over and out." _

Logan roughly flipped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. God, he was getting super anxious. His hands were itching to kill something supernatural like those psychics. Most of them were very powerful, except some who only had visions or something minor like that. But, he could never count on them. They could get vicious at any moment. It was better to clean them out of the picture. Now, he had to find the other psychic kid who was definitely one of these students, according to the information he'd gotten from that drunken teacher. Logan resumed his work and kept watching the endless flow of students passing by him.

* * *

Sam was staring mindlessly out of the impala's window. Engrossed in his brooding, he wasn't even aware that they had finally reached the school until two fingers snapped in front of his face. Startled, he drew back a little, Dean's goofy grinning features coming into his line of vision as if on cue.

"You back, Einstein?"

"Didn't go anywhere, dork." Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the car.

"You gonna be okay from here, Sammy?" Dean poked his head out of the window.

Sam huffed. "Oh come on, Dean. It's school for Christ's sake. I'll be alright, don't worry. I'll probably just go sit in a corner and practice my stupid speech."

"Okay, okay, grumpy. Don't get your panties…" Dean started and Sam interrupted.

"See you later Dean."

Dean watched as Sam walked towards his school entrance, then swung his car in the other direction and headed to their motel.

Sam stealthily watched Dean drive off before coming out of his hiding place. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read it softly. "Ashley Houston, C/O Richard and Stephanie Houston. Green Bay, Brown County," Sighing, he finished, "Wisconsin." Sam looked his watch and chewed his bottom lip. _**'Only a forty minute drive from here and I don't have much work to do,'**_ He thought and walked towards the lawn where a couple of his friends were hanging around.

"Hey Scott, can you do me a favor?" Sam asked, clamping a hand over his friend's shoulder.

"Sam!" The boy cried in joy at seeing his best friend up and around. "How are you, man? You gave us all a helluva scare yesterday."

'_**Oh no, not again'**_ Sam mentally huffed but forced a smile. "I'm fine. Hey, can I borrow your bike for a couple of hours?" he quickly came to his own business.

"Yeah, sure. Why, man?" Scott asked, a little taken aback by Sam's request but handing him the keys without hesitation.

"Nothing. Just forgot to grab something. I'll be back in a couple of hours." Sam was already heading towards his friend's bike.

"But Sam," Scott yelled. "You have your speech at six p.m. and it's already two."

Sam had already revved the bike. "I'll be back before then," he replied confidently before speeding off, leaving Scott standing dumbfounded in the middle of the lawn.

* * *

Sam stood in front of the small cottage, not sure what to do. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the calling bell.

**Ding Dong.**

No one showed after a few minutes, and Sam began to fidget. He anxiously scanned the surrounding area and then reached for the bell again. But before he could push it, the door unlocked and opened a fraction.

"Yes?" An exhausted, haggard-looking lady asked with a frown on her face.

Sam backed up a little. "Ahh, Hi. Ma'am. I…I…" He seemed to have lost his speech. Clearing his throat a little, he started afresh, "My name is Sam McKnight. I'm friend of your daughter, Ashley. I heard that she's been missing for a few days, so I came here…"

"Come on in." She opened the door and Sam gratefully entered.

"Ash never told me about you, Sam." Handing a cup of coffee to the youngster, Mrs. Houston sat on the couch opposite where Sam was currently sitting.

"Well," Sam coughed, "…she was my friend when we were in sixth grade, Mrs. Houston. Then I had to leave town and we kinda lost touch. I just came back here couple of weeks ago and thought I should meet up with her. Then I saw the news that she is…"

"Yeah." Mrs. Houston took a sip of her coffee and blinked at the young boy. "She's been missing since last week. She just went on a tour with her friends, and never came back."

Sam looked at her with sympathy as she started sniffling miserably.

"Where did she go?" Sam asked, blinking a couple if times as a headache began to form behind his eyes.

"She told me she was going to Bayfield with her friends. Me and Richard gave her permission because she has been under a lot of pressure lately."

"Pressure? What kind of pressure?" Sam asked, rubbing a hand unconsciously on his mildly aching temple.

"Well, study, cheerleading and lots of other pressures like teenagers usually face." Mrs. Houston smirked mirthlessly. "But lately, she seemed really distracted and wouldn't even let anyone enter her room."

Sam frowned. Well, that sounded unusual. "Distracted, how?"

"Well, after the electrocution accident happened, she seemed kinda distracted; irritated."

"Electrocution?"

"Yeah, it happened on her birthday, which was couple of months ago. She was trying to fix some wire in her room and got electrocuted."

"Oh, my God, what happened after that?" Sam asked. A sick feeling was blossoming inside his gut.

"Well," Sipping her coffee once again, she looked at Sam who was still holding the cup in one hand and asked, "Aren't you gonna drink that coffee, young man?"

"Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry." Quickly gulping a mouthful, he smiled sincerely. "I just, I was just worried about my friend."

"Yeah, that's what friends are for." She smiled sadly. "Nothing actually happened to her if you ask me. The shock was massive but thankfully, she was alright. The whole house got short-circuited, but somehow, she skipped the danger."

"Impossible." Sam didn't want to say that, but it came out of his moth unwittingly.

"What, yeah! It was a miracle, though Richard got shocked when he tried to unlock her. But nothing harmful happened to her." The woman sighed, "After that, she became really quiet. Always confining herself to her room. Always complaining that she was suffering from headaches."

"Headaches?" Sam winced as his own headache started pounding full force.

"You okay, Sam?" Mrs. Houston asked as Sam suddenly became three shades paler and grabbed his forehead.

Before Sam could answer, a small boy entered the room and interrupted.

"She can electrocute you. I saw it," The little boy quipped and wrapped his hands around his worn out teddy bear.

"What?" Sam stood up from the couch, wavering a little as a sensation of lightheadedness swept over his body. White flashes were forming in front of his eyes and his vision started graying out.

"Yes. After the day when that elec…tution happened," The little boy stuttered past the critical word and continued, "…I somehow p*ssed her…erm…" As his mother glared at him, he squirmed, "…she got mad and grabbed my teddy, and then teddy burned."

"Ben, what are you talking about?" Mrs. Houston got up and looked apologetically at Sam. "Well Sam, don't listen to him. He's just a baby."

But Sam wasn't listening to the mother. He knew that little Ben was telling the truth. Sam closed his eyes and swayed drunkenly as realization struck his mind; Ashley was one of the special kids. This was what he had seen. A man was killing children like him. Now he was sure the girl was no longer alive. That man had slit her throat in a very brutal way, and Sam was certain that the butcher would find the other special kids like them, and execute them in no time.

"Sam, you okay honey?"

"Yeah, I…" Before Sam could finish, what felt like a thousand volts of white light burst in front of Sam's eyes and he screamed. "Arrrrghh…". Dropped to his knees as his legs could no longer hold him upright, Sam gasped as another vision started playing.

**Flash**- _A young boy like him was passing through a lonely road. His cell phone rang and he casually flipped it open. "Hello, Andy here." _

Sam's breathing hitched as another wave of vision flooded into his senses.

**Flash**- _The barrel of a sniper rifle was moving slowly in the direction where the kid was walking. The kid had absolutely no idea that he had been targeted._

"Ahh…ohh…"

**Flash**- _The dongs of the "Our Holy Father" Church's bell rang four times telling that it was 4 p.m. _

Sam was gasping hard. Mrs. Houston called his name and tried to say something, but he could hear and see nothing past the scene playing out in graphic detail in his mind.

**Flash**- _Andy came within the sights attached to the rifle's barrel and the shooter was about to pull the trigger._

"Noo, please…NOO…"

**Flash**- _With a sharp 'hissing sound', the bullet impacted directly into Andy's forehead. He was dead instantly, covered with blood that gushed from his head wound. The attacker's face was covered with a mask; he crouched beside the dead body and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket._

"_Job's done."_

Sam let out a guttural scream as the horrific scenario once again played out before his eyes. This time more vivid, more prominent. It seemed as if his vision or premonition capability was getting stronger with each passing day. Sam held his dangerously throbbing head and squeezed his eyes shut. He vaguely felt someone was grabbing his shoulder and telling him something, but he couldn't understand a single word. Everything had turned into a white fuzzy cloudy substance, like being stuck in a thick blanket of cotton wool. He could feel his mind and body were starting to shut down for his own safety. Sensing his nose was running, Sam uncoordinatedly put a violently trembling hand to his face, detecting a thick, slightly sticky substance before everything went black.

* * *

**TBC

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**Reviews are love.** **Spread the love!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N 1:- Special thanks to my two wonderful beta-readers 'Vonnie' and 'Jules'. They're just awesome.**

**A/N 2:- ****I just want to say how much I've appreciated the reviews and private messages I've received. Thank you so much, readers!**

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**POWER SURGE**

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Someone was calling him.

But he could not recognize the voice.

It wasn't Dean, or Dad.

Someone else was calling him; voice full of worry and concern.

"…am?...Sam, wake up." He could hear a female voice that was begging him to wake up. "Ben, gimme some water, honey." Where was he? Who was Ben? And why the hell he was sleeping in someone else's room? Did he get laid? No no no, that wasn't his thing. That was completely Dean's department. He was supposed to go to the school for…

He jolted back in full senses when someone sprinkled a handful of water on his face. Scrambling his way up until he was supporting his upper body on his elbows, Sam saw the concerned and somehow sad face of a lady looming over him.

"What…"

"You feeling okay now, Sam? You gave me quite a scare."

Now Sam's head was cleared a little. He remembered; he was at some girl's house investigating the missing case. But he could not recall how he ended up sleeping in her home.

"Yeah," Taking a deep but shaky breath, Sam questioned rather answering. "Wh…what happened?"

Mrs. Houston frowned a little and handed the clearly disoriented boy a glass of chilled water.

"We were talking about Ashley, then suddenly you keeled over, grabbing your head. Seemed like you were suffering a major headache or something." Mrs. Houston's voice was full of anxiousness. "You were bleeding from your nose, too. What'd happened Sam? Should I call a doctor?"

Sam sipped the water and leaned against the couch. They were still sitting on the floor. A dull pain throbbed incessantly behind his eye sockets.

"No," He panted in exhaustion. "…don't need a doctor. I'm okay."

Mrs. Houston did not look convinced.

"But you just… … …" The woman's voice barely registered on Sam's consciousness as the images of his previous vision once again played out before his eyes.

'_**Andy's here…'**_

'_**Sharpshooter…'**_

'_**Church's bell…Our Holy Father Church…'**_

Sam visibly flinched as the phantom shot rang through his head. He could practically see the dead, staring eyes of the young boy lying on the deserted road.

'_**Job's done…'**_

"No…Andy!" Sam gasped and quickly got up. He had to go, had to save Andy. Sam looked at his watch… "Oh God, its 3:35," and quickly turned to the lady who had also stood and was now staring dumbfounded at the young man.

"Where is the "Our Holy Father" Church?" The abrupt question came out of nowhere.

Mrs. Houston was virtually taken aback by this sudden query. What was wrong with this boy? He had been talking to her just some minutes ago and then…his eyes had rolled up into his head and the boy ended up crumpling to the floor with a badly bleeding nose. And now, after barely recovering from his sudden fainting spell, he was asking about _a church_!

"S-Sam, you sure you're…"

Her voice cut off mid-word as Sam interrupted, quite annoyingly.

"I'm okay ma'am. Now please tell me where the church is. It's important." Sam was fidgeting nervously as he kept glancing repeatedly at his watch.

'_**3.40. Sh*t.'**_

Wetting her lip out of nervousness, Mrs. Houston answered with a wavering tone.

"Umm, well…it's in Oneida." She pointed towards the road from her window and indicated the exact opposite direction to where Sam had come from. "Go straight through the main road and then take the left turn, this is the way to Oneida. The Church is in the middle of that area, you won't miss it." Mrs. Houston gave him a rough description of the location Sam had requested.

Sam had already bolted toward the exit door, leaving the poor lady and her little son standing in the porch where they had followed the young man. He quickly jumped on his bike and keyed the ignition. Before revving the small engine, Sam asked urgently, "How long does it usually take to reach that place?"

Mrs. Houston seemed to be thinking for a while. She could not understand why this boy was in such a hurry and why he wanted to go to that church. Now this young man sure had to have some secrets. The way he had been acting…

"Thirty-five to forty minutes at least."

Without wasting another precious second, Sam swiftly swung the bike towards the said direction and sped off, leaving a small whirl of dust behind. The last word Mrs. Houston heard from the teenage boy's mouth was—

"**OH SH*T.**"

* * *

"I don't know Father, what's happening to me. I mean, I just…" Andrew Gallagher was kneeling down in front of Father Whitefield; head bowed, both hands clasped to his chest. Face drawn with fear, the young boy continued, "…I think someone was trying to kidnap me or something yesterday, but I…"

A small smile of assurance formed on the Father's solemn face. He was used to this sort of behavior from boys of Andy's age. Raging hormones and overactive imaginations didn't always mix very well.Bending down a little, he gently patted the panic-strickenteenager's shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

Andy watched the priest's calm face as he lit a candle and put it into the holder in front of Jesus' statue. After two minutes silent praying, the Father turned around to face the youngster and smiled gently.

"Jesus is watching over you, my child. If you have faith in Him, He will protect you every time. Have faith, son. It will show you the right way."

"I know, Father, and I have faith in my God, too." Andy's voice echoed in the huge church hall. "But why would someone want to hurt me? I haven't done anything wrong yet." His trembled slightly as sudden fear kept crawling through his veins.

"Oh, Jesus."

Father closed his eyes for a moment before speaking up. He had to be careful not to hurt the boy's somewhat delicate feelings."There're so much evil out there, son, you don't know what's waiting for whom and why. Sometimes, people get caught in thecrossfire." Placing a consoling hand over Andy's head, Father continued, "But remember; there is always a guardian angel watching over you. He will protect you nevertheless. Just have faith, my child."

"Guardian angel?"

"Yes, son."

"But, how'd I recognize him?"

"You don't have to. He'll find you whenever you need him." Father Whitefield's deep, soothing voice had clamed Andy's overtaxed senses a little.

"Father, I…I've got to confess something to you." Andy seemed to be hesitating a little.

"Sure. You can confess anything in front of our Holy Father."

"I…I've been having these headaches for a couple of months now, then after my eighteenth birthday, I felt something has changed in me."

"Well, you've just stepped into your adulthood, son. There can be a lot of changes happening," Father answered, once again eliciting a gentle smile.

Getting up from his crouched position, Andy shook his head in denial.

"No Father, it's nothing like that. It's like…I…ah…"

Seeing the youngster was getting genuinely distressed, the priest asked, his brow wrinkling in a concerned frown,

"Andy, son! Is there something bothering you?"

Andy rubbed his palms together as if he was feeling cold, and began to fidget.

"I…Father I…I've been…" His voice cut off as his cell phone rang.

The boy seemed to have born nervous. His left leg had been continuously bouncing while he was talking to the priest. Startling violently when the phone rang, he stuttered and paced backward. "I…I…gotta go, Father. I'm sorry. I…uh…I'll talk to you later."

Confused at seeing the boy's sudden change in attitude, the Father frowned slightly but gave him permission anyway.

* * *

"Hello, Andy here?"

Andy turned around quickly as a tiny sound came from the nearby bushes. But his eyes caught nothing except the emptiness of the deserted road.

"Oh yeah, Bruce, I'll be there, don' worry." Andy was walking slowly along the straight, narrow road that seemed to stretch all the way to the long distant horizon. There were huge wheat fields on both sides, and the area contained no other residences except for the church.

Halting for a moment, Andy looked at the church's cupola when the bell rang four times to announce that it was four p.m., then resumed walking.

"Okay, I got it. Wait, lemme…"

Andy paused – someone was calling him from a far distance. Quirking his eyebrows, Andy again turned around and saw a bike coming towards him at very high speed; the rider screaming his name.

"_Andy, look out…"_

"What the…"

Andy pulled his cell phone from his ear, staring in astonishment at the young rider bearing down on him. Suddenly he heard a hissing sound and felt a heavy impact against his left hand. He toppled backwards in shock and pain, the shattered cell phone spinning from his numb fingers.

"Oh God, oh God…"

Everything became a blur. Andy's whole body was shaking like a leaf as he stared in sick horror at the deep graze across his palm. His left hand was bleeding profusely, and he realized that the hiss had been the sound of a bullet. He'd been shot. A sudden rustling made him look up, and he began to crawl backwards as a burly man with a sniper rifle in his hand came out from his hiding place behind the bushes.

"No no, please, no…" Andy pleaded as he watched the sharpshooter aim the weapon at his head at point blank range.

"You're finished, jinx."

Andy closed his eyes, bracing himself for the shock of another bullet, when suddenly he heard a loud screeching of tires on the asphalt.

Cautiously opening an eye, Andy watched in utter shock as the mysterious rider skidded to a halt in front of him and kicked the shooter hard in the stomach.

The attacker was caught unawares by the young man's sudden appearance. Doubling over as the heavy booted foot slammed into his gut, he cried in pain.

"Oomph."

Before the marksman could regain control, Sam got off the bike, laying the still vibrating vehicle roughly on the ground before elbowing him in the chin. The man grunted and toppled backward, caught off-guard once more by the young hunter who threw a vicious right hook to his face and snatched the rifle from his hands.

Sam emptied the magazine of bullets and engaged the weapon's safety lock with lightning fast speed.

The groggy sharpshooter was still shaking his head; he had practically no idea what the heck was happening. It was like the kid who had attacked him so savagely had appeared out of nowhere. And what was more disturbing was the fact that it seemed as if the newcomer had the complete idea of what was going to happen, so he had come prepared.

Gaining control of his addled senses, the gunman wiped the blood away from his nose and tried to attack his opponent. But the boy was faster. After locking his sniper rifle, the youngster hit the mask-clad face with the butt of the weapon, sending him crashing to the ground again…writhing and gasping in pain.

Andy was still shell-shocked; unable to do anything but watch the whole scenario unfolding right before his wide blown eyes. He jolted back to his senses when the frantic call from his lifesaver reached his ears, and he saw the young boy had already picked his bike from the ground and was sitting astride it.

"ANDY, QUICK!" Sam held out his right hand towards the panic-stricken teen and shook it impatiently. He knew it would not take long before the murderer shook off his stupor and came at them again.

"ANDY, MOVE! C'mon, we gotta get outta here!"

Sam's urgent yell finally penetrated Andy's pre-occupied mind. Scrambling up off the ground, he grabbed Sam's outstretched hand and sat behind him. Without wasting one more precious second, Sam pressed hard on the accelerator and swerved toward the direction he came from.

"What was that?" Andy's voice was trembling along with his whole body. Wrapping his badly shaking and bleeding hands around Sam's waist, he asked again, "Who was that man? Who are you? Why does he want to kill me? How did you get here?"

Before Sam could answer his nonstop rambling, a gunshot came from nearby, reminding the boys that they hadn't yet gotten clear of the danger zone. Turning his head, Sam saw the attacker was now firing a long-range pistol randomly towards them. A sharp clink of metal announced that one of the bullets had hit the rear of the bike.

"ANDY, DUCK!"

Andy did as Sam told him to do, but Sam hadn't gotten off that lucky. The madman was raining bullets all around them, and unfortunately, one of the missiles hit Sam directly in his right arm.

"AHHHHH."

Sam screamed in extreme pain as the bullet penetrated his flesh, and lost his balance. The bike thudded down onto the asphalt and slid to a halt.

Both Sam and Andy were thrown from the bike and rolled along the road for a few yards, until their body movement stopped automatically. Sam was writhing in pain; grabbing his injured arm with his left hand, he rolled over and saw Andy was laying face down not more than five feet away from him.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sam tried to get up to check on the other teen but stopped when a jean-clad knee appeared front of his eyes. He gasped, looking up to meet the cold eyes of the shooter, and the gun pointed directly at his forehead.

"Who are you, you son of a b*tch?" The ferocious killer asked Sam through clenched teeth.

Choosing the option not to answer, Sam tried to kick the man's shin but the pain and blood loss had already begun weakening him. The gunman easily defended his futile attack and kicked him hard in the ribs.

Grunting in agony, Sam curled into a ball and lay on his side. Blood gushed from the bullet wound, his ribcage throbbed sickeningly, and he panted through a wave of dizziness.

Sam screamed as the killer grabbed his hair roughly and pulled him onto his knees.

"I didn't want to kill you, but you've seen too much." Pressing the muzzle of the gun between Sam's eyebrows, the killer growled through his clenched teeth. "You have to die."

"_**Get. Away. From. Him."**_

Andy's hushed, slightly echoing, anger-filled voice came from behind Sam. His hands were outstretched towards the attacker, as if he was performing some sort of mojo on the man.

Sam watched in astonishment as the killer loosed his hold on Sam's hair and stepped back a little at the very moment Andy issued his command.

"_**Put. Your. Gun. Down. And. Leave." **_

Andy's 'hush hush' tone came again, and instantly the masked man stepped further back, dropping his gun on the ground.

Andy quickly ran towards where Sam was sitting stunned and grabbed his left arm.

"C'mon man, quick. I don't know how long I can hold him. We gotta run."

Without sparing another glance at the mysterious attacker, Sam pulled the bike off the ground and straddled it, indicating for Andy to sit on the back. Revving the bike up to full speed, they headed rapidly towards the distant horizon.

* * *

"What the hell had just happened?" Andy asked from the pillion seat, arms wrapped tightly around the taller boy's waist. "And who are you? How did you find me? How did you know that something like that was gonna happen?"

Andy's constant yammering was giving Sam a nasty headache. Due to the adrenaline rush and blood loss, he'd been feeling a bit lightheaded. Clenching his teeth against the searing pain in his arm, he answered,

"I'm Sam."

Andy quickly shook his head as if he already knew that little fact.

"How did you find me?"

Biting his lip, Sam thought for a moment, wondering whether or not he should tell the young man about his vision.

"Well, umm…lucky guess, I think."

"Sam, I'm not some kinda stupid nerd. I know you know something about something." Andy was rambling. His voice was full of anxiousness rather than anger. "That wasn't any friggin' coincidence that you came exactly at the eleventh hour when that freaky psychotic son of a b*tch was trying to put a bullet into my skull."

'_**Oh Andy, can't you just shut up? You're giving me a headache here.'**_ Sam thought wryly as Andy's constant b*tching magnified his skull-splitting migraine tenfold.

Suddenly Andy remembered something.

"How do you know my name? I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Sam winced in pain as Andy's squeaky voice hammered inside his head.

"Andy please, keep your voice down, wouldja'?" A hint of annoyance bled into Sam's usually mild tone. "I've been shot, I'm in pain and you're giving me nothing but a headache." Sam didn't usually b*tch about his pain, but this time, he had had enough and still he had to drive to keep the other boy safe. So, it was no surprise he had kind of a crappy attitude.

"Sorry."

After a peaceful five minutes break, Andy started again.

"Sam, are you…" Quirking his eyebrows, Andy nibbled his lower lip. "…do you…have powers like me?"

The sudden question out of the blue made Sam's breath hitch and he brought the bike to an abrupt halt.

"Andy, we need to talk."

* * *

"So, you're a mind controller?" Sam asked, leaning over his bike. They had been standing in what Sam had deemed a safe location, a good few miles from the crazed gunman who had tried to take both their lives.

"Yeah, man." Shrugging casually, Andy rubbed his back of the head and smirked awkwardly. "Sounds pretty crazy, huh!"

"You're telling me." Sam smiled; his left hand clutching the injured arm which was still bleeding pretty badly.

"And dude, your power is also so cool. I mean…" Andy was almost jumping in excitement. Clapping his hands together, he squealed, "I mean visions! Like superman! You have x-ray vision!"

'_**Awkward.' **_

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Andy, listen. This is no fun having these kinda powers. And I don't have x-ray vision. This ain't some fantasy. This is a deadly game where children like us are unfortunately involved. And, I have death visions; I see people die before it happens. More like premonitions."

Andy's jaw dropped and he stared at Sam incredulously.

"Pre…premonitions? Th…that means…" grabbing a fistful of hair, Andy blinked nervously. "…you saw me dying at the killer's hand, and that's why…you…you came to save me."

"Umm, sort of."

"You saved my life, Sam. I owe you so much." Andy's voice quivered with emotion.

"Hey man, you saved me too." Sam smiled, patting the shorter boy's shoulder in reassurance. "I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't controlled that bastard with your Jedi mind power. So, now we're even."

"But, but you said someone's trying to kill us. Who's that, Sam?"

"I don't know."

"Why does he want to kill us? We didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't know."

"I…I'm scared, S-Sam!" Andy's nervousness slid into full-blown fear.

"Andy, look. You have to be st-strong." Sam was gasping. The pain of his hand and other physical abuse were really making him sick. "We'll figure this out, alright." Grabbing his aching head, he swayed a little. "We'll…"

Seeing the taller boy suddenly turn pale and start swaying, Andy frowned in concern.

"Sam, you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm…fi…" before Sam could finish his sentence, his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.

"Sam!" Andy shouted worriedly as he rushed towards Sam and grabbed his shoulders to steady him. "What's wrong? What's wrong, Sam?"

Keeping his eyes tightly closed, Sam answered, "Don't worry. Ahh…this is just from the blood loss. I'll be fine. What time is it?"

"Well, it's 5:30."

"Sh*t, I gotta go. I…I…have to…" Sam almost sagged onto Andy in pain.

"Not before I take you to the clinic and get you patched up, buddy." Grabbing the taller boy's waist, Andy heaved him up off the ground.

"But…ahh…it's too risky, Andy. This is…ah…a bullet wound. If they call the cops, we might…ohh…get into trouble."

"Not when Andy Gallagher and his super controlling brain is with you," Andy smirked mischievously and tapped one finger against his head. "I'll manage everything. Now, c'mon, before you bleed to death."

Smiling at the other boy's antics, Sam grabbed Andy's shoulder for support and limped towards the small clinic nearby.

* * *

**Gresham Auditorium Hall (Graduation Ceremony) 6.18 p.m.:-**

**

* * *

**

"Where the hell's Sam?" Dean muttered anxiously as he pressed the speed dial for his brother's number for the twenty-seventh time that evening, wondering why the hell Sam still hadn't showed up.

The auditorium was full from corner to corner. The general students were sitting in the balcony, and those who would be getting the prizes for their various academic performances were sitting in the front rows. And the toppers, among whose ranks Dean's absent little brother was supposed to be, were standing at the corner of the large stage wearing their usual graduation outfit.

The speaker was broadcasting…

"And the second runner up of the year is…"

Dean didn't hear whose name had actually been announced. His primary concern was his brother, who should have been standing among the students, but he was not. A sick feeling was nagging inside his gut. He could sense that something was wrong. His Sammy radar was sending him the invisible indication that his little brother was in danger.

"Sammy, where are you?" Dean, who has been standing almost in front of the stage stairs, started fidgeting nervously.

"And the Valedictorian of the year is Mr. Sam Winchester."

The speaker's voice filtered through the various sound boxes and the loud clapping of the huge audience burst into the large hall.

But there was no sign of Sam Winchester.

The principal of the school standing onstage holding the Valedictorian scarf and scholarship was also dumfounded upon seeing no appearance of the special boy.

"Sam Winchester, please come to the stage."

Dean was now feeling like he would go insane any minute. _**'Where's my brother, where's Sammy?' **_

The young hunter was about to leave the hall and go find his brother, when he heard a very familiar voice coming from the rear of the stage.

"I'm here. I'm here. Sorry for being late."

Spinning on his heel, Dean saw the very disheveled, pale, tired form of his brother cross the stage in a stumbling run, adjusting the silk coat and hat he had been wearing.

'_**Oh thank God.'**_ Sighing in relief, Dean stepped back to his original position and leaned against the wall. _**'Man, my brother almost gave me a heart attack. I'm so gonna kick that little b*tche's a**.' **_Dean thought wryly but then frowned again upon seeing his brother's sickly white pallor_**. 'What's wrong with him? Why is he looking like he's escaped a car wreck? Something's very off here.'**_

Sam was now standing behind the pulpit, hands clutching at the corners as if he was trying hard to keep himself upright.

After the principal gave him the best student award trophy, Sam again repositioned himself behind the mic pulpit and haltingly began his speech, which seemed completely off-track to Dean compared to the way his little brother had practiced it at home.

Sam was feeling really disoriented due to the attack and the shot given by the doctor at the small clinic. Everything seemed a haze in front of his eyes. He had no idea how did he'd even gotten there. Blinking rapidly, Sam started his overdue speech.

"I…ah…wanna thank all of my teachers for their enormous help and guidance…ahh…I got…got…this…" Panting heavily, he shook his head as extreme weariness gradually seeped through his exhausted frame. "…award…"

Suddenly a voice rang in his ears.

'**He seems kind'a nervous…' **

The female voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Sam moved his head towards the audience, in the direction he thought the voice had issued from.

But, in actual fact, everyone was sitting in almost total silence. One could hear a pin drop in the packed hall.

"What?" Sam whispered, but only got some confused look from his classmates standing behind him.

"I…I'm greatly thank…"

'**Man, this is so boring. I wanna get outta here.'**

Now a male voice struck his head a hammer blow, sounding like a high decibel microphone was playing inside his skull.

"Ahh…"

'**What's wrong with this boy?'**

His teacher's worried tone blared from somewhere behind him. Every freaking voice was so loud.

'**What's going on with you, Sammy?'**

"Ahh…ohhh…I'm…I'm so honored…ohh…"

* * *

Logan had been keeping an eye on the stage, and the full auditorium. Although he knew it would be hard finding that kid in this crowd.

He was standing in the far corner of the hall, staring at the stage where some valedictorian student by the name of Sam Winchester was giving his speech.

But something seemed awkward to Logan; the way that boy was acting, cutting his speech every time like someone or something had been interrupting him. It piqued his interest.

'_**Why am I feeling that something's off with this boy?'**_ Raising an eyebrow, Logan gave the young boy a long, measuring look from top to bottom. _**'But nothing seems unusual to me, except his speech. I gotta look…'**_

Suddenly the buzzing tone of his cell distracted him from his thoughts. Pulling it from his pocket, he saw a familiar number on the screen.

"Yeah, what's up? It's been a while since you called me, buddy."

" - "

He nodded in response to the person at the other end of the line.

"Tonight?"

" - "

"So, ghouls, huh! Alright, I'm coming."

" - "

"See you in a while."

Flipping his phone shut, he shook his head in utter disappointment. _**'There's nothing here. No psychic freaks in this school. I've been watching almost each and every student for last two days. The teacher was really drunk. Gotta start from the beginning.'**_

Huffing in annoyance, Logan quickly left the school hall without wasting another minute of his time.

* * *

Sam's head was floating. He didn't have any idea what was going on. He could hear practically everyone's thoughts and the words were striking his head like hundred ton jackhammers.

'**What's he doing?'**

'**It's me who should have been getting this award, not him.'**

Sam was gasping. This was becoming too much to take.

"What? Please stop," the boy begged, one hand holding the trophy while other massaged his excessively aching temples.

'**WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS BOY?' **

'**SAMMY? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, SAMMY?'**

"Dean?" Sam whispered, but his voice echoed into the hall through the mic. He was sure he'd heard his brother's voice from somewhere nearby.

'**I WANT A PIZZA.'**

'**HE'S SO HANDSOME.'**

'**HEY MANDY, I GOT A NEW BOYFRIEND. CAN'T WAIT TO TEXT YA.'**

"PLEASE, STOP." Sam was gasping hard as he clutched his head tightly. The voices were getting louder with each passing moment and hitting him like red-hot cannonballs.

'**HAS HE GONE MAD?'**

'**WHAT'S HE DOING?'**

'**I KNEW THAT HE WAS A FREAK.'**

'**HEY, MOM AND DAD AIN'T HOME. SO, WHAT DO YA THINK?'**

'**SAMMY?'**

"STOP IT…" Sam stumbled backward as every word hurt him like a bombshell. His brain felt like it was splitting from the inside out. He hadn't experienced anything like that in his entire life. This was so intense, hearing almost everyone's thoughts was painful beyond imagination.

"**STOP IT, PLEASE, STTTTOOOP IT**." Sam screamed at the top of his lungs, shaking his head in bewilderment. Tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes. Stepping backward, he accidentally bumped someone and fell onto the stage.

"Hey, you guys alright?"

But Sam heard more than that.

'**WHAT THE HECK? WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS KID?' **

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDDDDD…I CAN'T BEAR IT ANYMORE. I CAN'T." Crying like a mad person, Sam scrambled away from the stage and towards the exit, his precious trophy left lying on the floor. The whole audience stood up as he disappeared from view, confused and shocked by the scene that had suddenly happened before their eyes.

* * *

**Almost half an hour later:-**

Dean was wandering aimlessly around the large hall where the post ceremony and farewell party had been organized. There were lots of cool chicks, and some of them were really hot according to Dean's own personal scale of hotness. But, right now, he really wasn't in the mood for flirting, not after the harsh argument he'd recently had with his baby brother.

Speaking of his brother…

Where was Sam?

Dean frowned and looked around the hall, but as he suspected, there was no sign of his lanky geek brother. Putting his drink on a nearby table, Dean walked towards the roof, guessing this would be the only place his brother could find right now where he could brood or sulk.

Just as he'd thought, his brother was there at the far corner of the roof, standing by the railing.

'_**I knew it. That broody b*tch can't find a better place than that.' **_

Huffing in mock annoyance, Dean walked towards his sibling. All his anger and resentment suddenly vanished when he saw his baby brother hunched over clutching his head and shaking like a leaf in a heavy storm.

"Sammy!"

Sam didn't seem to have heard his big brother's voice as he was still locked into his latest vision. His face contorted in agony and his legs were in danger of entangling with each other as he began to stumble blindly in a small circle.

Fearing that his brother could fall off the low railings, Dean ran to him, his mouth opening to shout a warning.

"Sammy, get away from the edge."

Sam didn't hear him, couldn't hear him. His eyes wide and staring, he kept repeating…

"No no no…don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me."

"Sammy?"

Dean called to his clearly out-of-mind sibling to try and pull him from his misery, but Sam didn't seem to recognize him. Hands still locked in a death grip on his head; Sam looked at his brother and cried,

"No no no, don't…don't you come near me. Don't you touch me!"

"Sam, it's me…" Dean watched in horror as Sam kept backing towards the railing. Fearing that his brother might fall off the roof given his fragile state of mind, Dean tried again, a desperate note creeping into his voice, "…it's Dean."

"No no no…" the backs of Sam's legs hit the railing and he teetered, off-balance. Just as he was about to fall, Dean jumped forward and grabbed his brother's biceps, pulling him back to safety.

"**DO NOT TOUCH ME**." Sam screamed and Dean felt an invisible force hit him hard, knocking him to the floor.

"What the hell?" Rubbing his left hip where he'd landed; Dean got up and advanced towards his little brother on wobbly legs.

"Sam, what are you doing? It's me, Dean."

But there was no hint of recognition in those expressive hazel eyes. All Dean could see was fear and anger shimmering in their depths.

Dean tried to grab his brother, but then…

"**DON'T COME NEAR ME**." Anger vibrated through Sam's whole body, and suddenly he flung his arm forward, aiming towards Dean.

The young hunter felt an invisible hand grip his shoulder and yank him off his feet. He found himself floating in midair, staring in horror at Sam. The boy's arm was still outstretched, fingers crooked as if he was physically holding Dean suspended.

"Sam, put me down." Dean was now royally scared. He had never seen his little brother act like this. Sam wasn't himself; he didn't know what he was doing.

Without warning, Sam moved his hand towards the railing as though he was throwing something.

Dean felt the sharp tug at his shoulder and shot over the railing as if flung by that unseen hand. The invisible force released its hold and he began to fall, arms flailing as panic took hold. They were three floors up, and he felt bile rise up in his throat as he saw the ground rushing towards him with incredible speed.

Before he hit the ground and death claimed him, Dean screamed to his brother for the last time…

" **SAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAMMMMM MMMMMMMMM ...**"

* * *

**TBC**

**

* * *

**

**Hiding under a rock**** ...don't shoot me! Eeeeeppp….**

**Sorry for leaving the nastiest cliffy of the year, but I thought this was a great place to end this chapter. (Evil laugh)**

**(I'll let you know about the argument between Sam and Dean and also the vision Sam got caught into ****in the next chapter, so wait a little bit, alright!)**

**Reviews are love. If you want the next chapter soon, then let me know and I'll start typing…(:D)**

**Thanks for reading. Ritu.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N 1: - Thanks to my lovely friend and guide 'Jules' for her awesome beta-work.**

**A/N 2: - This chapter is dedicated to my awesome friend '****Anjelicious****'. Happy Belated Birthday….umm….Limpo! LOL**

**A/N 3: - I want to thank one of my awesome friends ****'Cindy123'**** for everything,****especially for making 'The Deal' when I was 'Dying from a Broken Heart'. Thank you Cindy!**

**A/N 4: - ****I just want to say how much I've appreciated the reviews and private messages I've received. Thank you so much.**

**A/N 5:- To VONNIE- I'm so happy to have you back, my Big Sister! You're so kind, so lovely and only 3 words for you "I Love You".**

**

* * *

**

**POWER SURGE**

**

* * *

**

_**Half an hour earlier:**_

Sam stumbled out of the back stage area and fell on his knees. He was panting harshly; sweat rolling down his forehead.

"Hey, Sam? You okay?"

Someone grabbed Sam's shoulder, backing off when he flinched in surprise and pain. He could not tell whether that was a real voice or if he was still hearing peoples' thoughts. God, what happened this evening was horrible.

"L've me al'ne." Sam slurred, as he tried to get up on unsteady legs. He still couldn't see anything clearly. It seemed as if a haze had permanently settled in front of his eyes.

"Sam, hey it's okay. It's me, Scott."

Recognizing the familiar voice of his best friend, Sam relaxed a little. Closing his eyes for a bit, he tried to concentrate on his breathing. Sam was feeling extremely hot, like a furnace was blazing inside his body. He was sweating profusely, even in this cold weather.

Blinking a couple of times, Sam tried to clear his cloudy vision. There was no one except him and his friend nearby. Everyone was in the auditorium; only two or three people were wandering here and there.

"Wha…what are you doing here, Scott?" Sam asked hoarsely, while shrugging his silk coat off his overheated body.

Snaking an arm around Sam's waist, Scott heaved his clearly disoriented friend onto his sluggish feet and started walking towards the stairs.

"I was going to the party room, Sam. Mr. Waltz wanted me to make sure if everything's okay there." Seeing his friend's sickly white pallor, Scott frowned. "What happened to you, Sam? Why are you acting like you've escaped a gangster encounter?"

"I…I don't know." Closing his eyes for a moment, as another headache started forming behind his eyes, Sam weakly answered, "I…I felt sick, my head…head was hurting so badly." _**'Thank God, those weird voices have stopped playing in my head at least.'**_ He thought, placing a trembling hand against his viciously aching temple.

"Oh, are you feeling alright now? You want me to call the doctor?" Scott asked him with genuine concern as he led the wobbly young man toward the sofa of the large decorated hall. After depositing Sam onto the couch, Scott put his discarded coat and valedictorian scarf beside him.

Quickly rolling his head in his friend's direction, Sam dismissed the idea of calling a doctor.

"No, no. I…I'll be fine in a minute. Can…can you give me some water, please?"

"Yeah, sure." Although he was looking uncertain, Scott didn't press the issue. Something had obviously been wrong with his friend, he was sure about it. Last night, he had passed out in the middle of the game without warning, then today took off after borrowing his bike _and man_…his bike was really looking haggard like it'd gotten involved in a minor crash or something; and now this…

Chewing his lower lip worriedly, Scott got up to get a bottle of water for his friend.

"Thanks." Sam said softly as he gratefully accepted the drink.

"Sam, what happened to you? Did you get involved in accident? Did you fall from the bike?" Scott asked anxiously, noticing the bruises on Sam's pale face.

Before Sam could say anything, a familiar but angry voice boomed in the empty room.

"You took off on a bike?" Dean stormed to where Sam was sitting. In the process, he bumped the other teen, but was too upset to care about that fact. "Sammy?"

Sam flinched at the clearly upset and somewhat angry attitude of his big brother. He knew it had completely been his fault and he couldn't blame Dean for getting upset with him. What Sam had done was a totally reckless deed and he could have easily gotten killed today.

"I…I…"

"You what, Sam?" Dean knelt down in front of Sam and grabbed the armrest of the couch rather ferociously. "After I left you here, thought you would be safe and you took off…" Turning to Scott who had been standing quietly beside him, Dean glared furiously at the young teen, "…with his freaking bike? Where did you go?"

Dean's constant yammering was aggravating Sam's skull-splitting migraine tenfold. Desperately trying to stifle a whimper, Sam looked at his friend and politely asked, "Scott, umm…can you leave us alone for a minute? I'll catch you in a while."

"Yeah, sure." Worriedly sneaking a glance towards the furious older Winchester, Scott swallowed and turned to leave. "Catch ya later."

Sam watched as his friend went in the direction of the hall, but suddenly startled when Dean's p*ssed off voice penetrated his thoughts.

"Sam, I'm waiting."

Swallowing nervously, Sam muttered softly, "I…I went to Green Ba…Bay…to investigate the girl's case." His voice was trembling, both in fear of his annoyed older brother, and extreme exhaustion. Sam wasn't usually fearful of his big brother, but from an early age, he had developed a healthy respect for, and wariness of, Dean's anger, especially on the rare occasions when it was directed solely at him.

"YOU DID WHAT?" Dean's eyes went wide as he heard Sam's confession about going so far out to an investigation all alone, without telling anyone or having a backup while his life was in danger. He could not believe Sam could have pulled something so reckless. _And what, borrowing a bike! What if he'd had a vision in middle of riding and_…

Dean grabbed both Sam's arms and shook him lightly. "You went all that way alone, and didn't even care to tell me? You lied to my face, Sam, when I asked if you'd be okay and you said you wouldn't leave the school. What the hell were you playing at?"

Tightening his grip, Dean frowned when Sam cried out in pain and forcefully pried the elder Winchester's hand off his right arm.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked. That was first time he noticed Sam was wearing a different shirt to the one he'd had on earlier, and was without a jacket. His face morphed from anger to worry when he saw Sam hunch over clutching his right hand, a bright red patch of blood forming on the shirtsleeve.

"Sam, you hurt?" Dean was anxious seeing his little brother writhing in pain with sweat running copiously down his face. "Let me see. Did you fall?"

"No." Sam whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, panting hard. All he wanted was to get away from the place and hide somewhere dark and safe where he could die easily. The pain in his whole body was becoming excruciating and his head felt like it was going to explode at any moment.

Sam jerked from his brother's grip when Dean tried to move his shirt a little so he could take a better look at the injured limb. He knew if Dean saw his wound, he would immediately know that this was a gunshot and things would be harder to explain than they were now.

"Don't make a scene, Dean," Sam fiercely whispered through clenched teeth and shoved his brother's hand again, seeing the other students slowly gathering in the large hall. He did not want his friends and other juniors to see that he was being treated like a freaking grounded baby by his big brother. He had his skyrocketing reputation to uphold, after all.

"Now I'm the one who's making the scene here, Sammy?"

"Look Dean, you don't have to baby me all the frigging time, alright!" Sam got up form his seated position and looked directly into Dean's eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh yeah!" Dean snickered in mock sarcasm. "I can see that Sammy boy. Well, congrats. You did a bang up job on that." Dean's voice was gradually increasing in volume with each passing moment. "I just left you for couple of freaking hours, and you've managed to get yourself hurt in that short time, huh!"

Sam decided he'd had enough of his brother's snarky remarks. Dean was just too damned good in the 'how to make your little brother p*ssed without laying a hand on him' department. Anger was boiling inside Sam's body; he somehow managed not to throw a punch in his brother's arrogant mug, at least not in front of everyone.

Gritting his teeth in fury, Sam spat vehemently, "Know what Dean, screw you." He walked past Dean to where his friends were gathered eyeing the brothers quite suspiciously.

"Sam! Wait." Dean growled but didn't raise his tone. He knew when he should keep his voice low. Even though he wanted to punch his stubborn, hard-headed, pain-in-the-as* little brother in the center of his big mouth for being so reckless and ridiculously quarrelsome; he knew his seriously talented and popular little brother had gained a huge reputation here and he did not want to ruin it; not at least on Sam's special day anyway.

"Damn it." Dean cussed, angrily clenching his teeth as he watched Sam disappearing amongst his friends. _**'I'll kick your as* when we get home, you got that Sammy.'**_

Dean was p*ssed, but he was worried, too, for his brother. He didn't like the far-too-pale cast of the younger boy's face, and the way Sam had winced while clutching his arm was also worrisome. Sam was hiding something serious from him, he could tell. It was obvious to the hunter that Sam hadn't just gone to investigate that girl's case, something more had happened. And he wasn't forgetting that little drama that had happened on the stage.

A chill ran down Dean's spine as he remembered how Sam was panting and stuttering nonsense like someone was trying to hurt him, or worse. Resisting the urge to go after his brother and drag him out of the hall, seeing as Sam was enjoying the farewell party somewhat, Dean went to the other side of the hall where a group of pretty girls was chattering and giggling, and sighed.

Something definitely was going on with Sammy, and Dean vowed he would find out, no matter what it took. _**'What're you hiding from me, Sammy?'**_

_**

* * *

**_

Sam was sitting on the sofa in the corner of the large hall. His long arms were wrapped around his torso as though he was cold, and he rocked back and forth, his eyes closed. Sam was feeling a little off after having the harsh argument with his brother, although he knew it hadn't really been Dean's fault. Dean was only trying to help, he knew, but he just couldn't seem to hold his anger after what he had been through this day.

"Uhh…"

Groaning aloud, Sam grabbed his forehead and leaned back against the headrest. The extra-loud music was hurting his already aching head mercilessly and the swirling lights of the disco globe were making him dizzy. The whole room was semi-dark; filled with shadowy figures dancing under the flickering colorful electric globes that were the only source of the light. Sam couldn't recognize anyone, not even his brother.

Colored lights were flickering in front of his eyes; suddenly a vibrant white flash arced across his line of vision.

"Ahh God…" Sam whispered. _**'I felt that before. It's a…'**_ Gasping, Sam got up off the sofa and grabbed a handful of his hair. "…It's a vision."

Sweat was rolling down his forehead, making its way to his neck. Sam gasped loudly as he braced himself for another hit of painful vision.

Another white light flashed before his eyes and the whole room tilted on its axis. But most strangely, the vision still hadn't started like it should have. It was taking an unusually long time to actually begin.

"Ahh…oh God!"

"Sam, you okay?"

Sam startled as a feminine voice called him and a gentle hand grasped his shoulder.

'_**Sarah!'**_

"Ahh…I'm fine."

Sarah didn't look convinced. The way Sam was panting and swaying, it seemed like he was going to keel over or pass out at any moment.

"You don't look fine, Sam!" Sarah put her hand on his cheek and gasped. "Oh God, Sam, you're burning up. I'm calling someone."

"No," Sam stuttered and grasped her arm. "I…ah…guh…" Sam almost screamed as a white hot flash engulfed his whole vision.

**Flash-** _A large, semi-dark room…looked like some abandoned place…_**Flash-**_a long chain was hanging from the ceiling that had been suspending a person by his hand…_ **–Flash**

"Ahh..ahhh…"

"Sam? Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam's vision faltered as Sarah's frantic voice deterred his concentration.

"Ahh…I…I…need…" Blinking furiously a couple of times as the vision suddenly broke; he tried to regain his bearings. He could not risk his vision taking hold of him in front of Sarah. "…I need a breather…" Sam tried to convince his friend while eliciting a genuine smile, but he failed dismally to assuage her concerns.

"But, your…"

"Migraine." The lie slipped instantly from Sam's tongue. He could feel another hit was coming soon so he had to get away from everyone as fast as he could. Lights were dimming in and out in front of his eyes, his stomach roiling as a bout of nausea threatened to choke him. Staggering towards the exit to the roof adjoining the hall, Sam pulled the door and turned around a little, sensing Sarah was still looking at him incredulously, and stuttered, "…just gimme a couple of minutes. I…I'll be right back…"

Leaving the dumbfounded girl in the room, Sam closed the door behind him and immediately fell to his knees. The pain in his head was now unbearable. He did not have any idea how he'd managed to keep his game face on in front of Sarah, or else the matter could have been much worse than it was already.

"Not now…not now…ahhh…"

**Flash**- _The door opened and someone well-built entered the room; the room was too dark so his face couldn't be seen clearly. The man was holding a knife. He seemed to be wearing a mask, only his eyes and a little part of his forehead were visible. The hostage wriggled his tied up hands above him, desperately trying to free himself…but failed._

'_I have been waiting for you, Sam Winchester!'_ –**Flash**

"Ahhhhhhhhhh…" Sam's breath hitched in fear and he cried out as he saw himself as the hostage who had been suspended in midair by chains, feet barely touching the floor.

Getting to his feet once again, Sam drunkenly moved forward towards the rear end of the roof. He really wasn't seeing where he was going. Everything in front his eyes seemed to be so hazy, and on the top of that, tears were making his vision blurry.

"What's goin' on…pl'se…help me…"

Sam cried in pain as another agonizing vision hit him with intense force and he doubled over, clutching his head.

**Flash**- _'I didn't even recognize you Sammy, while you were in front of my very eyes'- the captor hissed and trailed his knife over Sam's torso, intentionally popping some of his shirt's buttons. 'I'll take the gag and blindfold off you, alright buddy!'_ –**Flash**

Sam still could not see his abductor's face due to darkness. But as the man came closer, Sam saw the deep scar that slashed across his right eyebrow.

**Flash**- _'Let me go, you son of a b*tch,' Sam screamed and tried to kick the captor. 'Such a feisty little boy'- _**Flash**_- He grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt and tore it open._ - **Flash**

"No no no…don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me."

Sam staggered blindly along the railings at the edge of the roof without having any idea how dangerously close he was to it. Given the condition he was in, at any moment he could tip and fall over the edge.

He didn't hear his brother calling him frantically.

**Flash**- _'Such a gorgeous body, eh!' The psycho laughed mischievously. 'Your daddy musta' fed you boys' good meals, huh!' Trailing a rough hand over Sam's now bare torso, the man continued his monologue. "You sure have such a fine packaging, Sammy!'_ –**Flash**

Sam felt someone grab his arm and forcefully shove him. Extreme anger now had overpowered his whole mind and soul. He felt an intense blaze of white-hot fury rush through his whole body and burst into his brain.

"**DO NOT TOUCH ME**."

Sam felt the hands that were grabbing him suddenly release their grip, and he thought he heard a loud thud as if someone had fallen hard onto the floor.

**Flash**- _'Such a waste of food and water on a pathetic psychic freak that you are,' the masked man said with a mock-sorrowful voice. Sam wriggled against the chain, but nothing good came out of doing so. 'I feel bad that I'll have to waste such a fine boy like you, Sammy! I'm sorry.' The killer grabbed the knife tightly and aimed the weapon toward Sam's chest._ –**Flash**

Sam could not differentiate between the vision and reality. All he could see was a sick psycho killer trying to stab him. It was the same killer who had killed the poor girl, Ashley. Now, it was Sam's turn. He did not want to die, at least not at the hand of some sick psychotic freak.

Sam could see nothing but a white sheet of haze in front of his eyes, and the shadowy outline of a person advancing towards him. _**'no no no no no no'**_ The word was replaying in Sam's mind, as he assumed that person was the psycho murderer from his vision moving closer to kill him. His head was hurting so badly, it felt like someone was hitting his skull with a sledgehammer. The anger, fear and outrage had now been mixed together, and Sam felt his whole body shudder as if it was trying to forcibly eject that maelstrom of powerful emotions.

"**DON'T COME NEAR ME**." Sam screamed at the top of his lungs and suddenly flung his arm forward; aiming towards the person he thought was trying to kill him.

Sam sensed an extremely powerful but invisible force erupt from his body and realized faintly that he had grabbed the person by his shoulders without even touching him. He could detect not one ounce of that person's bulk, but felt that he was holding the man suspended in the air.

He could hear his hostage trying to tell him something, or begging him; he did not know which. Caught as he was between reality and the horrific vision, he only knew that the man had been about to kill him, and he needed to defend himself from that assault.

As another flash of the continuing vision hit Sam's already occupied mind hard, he shuddered and moved his hand towards the railing as if he was trying to get rid of the offending thing or person he had been holding, and threw him off the roof.

'**Satisfaction.'**

Sam sighed in relief as he thought he had gotten rid off of his assaulter, but without warning another horrible white flash hit him and he doubled over in extreme pain.

**Flash**- _'I'm gonna kill ya boy. You can't get rid off me that easily.' The killer gestured as if he was going to plunge the knife into Sam's chest_. –**Flash**

"Oh no, he's alive…he's alive…" Sam screamed, grabbed his head and dropped to his knees. Tears were now falling like miniature torrents from his tightly shut eyes. Face contorted in extreme pain, breathing in shallow gasps; eyes rolling up in his head until only the whites showed, Sam felt as though he was about to pass out. This vision had been too strong, too powerful and it had been torturing him for at least the last fifteen minutes. Sam didn't know how much more he could take before he died of a brain hemorrhage or something.

Suddenly he heard someone scream…

"**SAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAMMMMM MMMMMMMMM ...**"

The soul-piercing scream of his brother jolted Sam back to reality and his eyes snapped open.

"Dean?"

Standing up on his wobbly, weak legs, Sam tried to find where his brother's voice was coming from. Within a second his eyes cleared enough for him to make out the wildly flailing form plummeting down the side of the building under the inexorable pull of gravity.

"**DEEEEE EEEEEAAAAAA AAAAAANNNNNN…NOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOO**…"

Sam screamed as he watched he brother falling at breakneck speed and knew that within a minute, Dean would be dead. The though of Dean dying made Sam dangerously lightheaded and without thinking…he crooked his fingers and whipped both arms over the railing as if he was trying to grab something out of thin air.

* * *

_**And Now:-**_

Dean knew he was a goner. No one could save him, no one. There was nobody on the ground floor back at the school yard. Everyone was busy with the school function and party. Dean felt bile rise up in his throat as he saw the ground rushing towards him with incredible speed and thought about his beloved little brother for one last time.

'_**I forgive you Sammy, this wasn't your fault. I love you little brother.'**_ Dean thought and closed his eyes as he braced himself for the world of hurt and then to die, when suddenly…

His falling body jerked to a stop as if someone had caught him in midair.

-?-

'_**Am I dead?'**_ The first thing that came to Dean's mind was whether he was dead or alive, and if he was dead, then why hadn't he felt a little bit of pain before dying.

Cautiously opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was the lower ground which was only one foot away from his face. _**'Oh hell, I would'a been dead by this time if…' **_Dean had completely forgotten that he was still hanging in midair; this was too much for him to take in. He stretched out a shaking hand and touched the tiled floor, trying to ascertain whether it was real or merely a hallucination.

'_**Oh my God, Sam!'**_

Suddenly realization hit him and Dean somehow turned his head upward to look over his shoulder. Just as he suspected- Sam was bending over the railing with his arms outstretched towards the elder Winchester as if he was trying to grab his sibling.

"Sam?"

Dean whispered in utmost shock realizing that his brother had saved him using his growing powers.

"Ahhhh." Dean cried as the invisible force released its hold without warning and he hit the ground with a soft thud.

"Son of a…" Dean grimaced and cussed softly as he landed on his stomach, arms and legs were splayed to either side of him like wings. He felt a little like he had been resurrected. The way death had seemed to be his inevitable fate, if his little brother hadn't…

Speaking of his little brother-

Quickly rolling over onto his back, Dean looked at the roof, hoping to see Sam still bending over the railing in the act of saving his big brother. But to his utter astonishment, there was no one there. Sluggishly getting up on his feet, Dean grabbed his forehead as a wave of dizziness washed over him as a result of his sudden encounter with death.

Hearing the faint sound of commotion coming from the roof, Dean glanced up again, this time spotting some people engaged in frantic activity near the spot where Sam had been standing moments before. 'Where's Sam?' Frowning, Dean raised his voice to call his brother. A sick feeling of fear was roiling inside his heart as he headed rapidly towards the main gate.

"**SAM**!"

He saw someone peer down from roof; it was one of Sam's friends.

"Where's Sam?" Dean shouted at the teenager, halting for a second.

"Dean…" The student's voice sounded frantic, fear was clearly showing on his face when he answered the young hunter. "…come here quickly. Sam…Sam's collapsed. He's bleeding…"

Before the boy could finish his sentence, Dean had already started running through the gate and up the staircase. He reached the rooftop in record time and slammed the door as he sprinted through.

His eyes fell immediately to his little brother who was lying on the floor with his head resting on someone's lap. A couple of other students were kneeling around him.

"Sammy?" Dean almost skidded to where his brother was lying and pulled him against his chest. Sam looked miserable. His nose was bleeding profusely, and a thin trail of blood was also leaking from the corner of his mouth. The boy was pale; deathly pale, seemingly unconscious and breathing erratically.

Wiping the thin trail of blood from Sam's mouth with his thumb, Dean shook him gently but got no response from the senseless teen. _**'Okay okay, calm down Dean. You can't freak out now, Sammy needs you.'**_ Dean mentally chided himself, feeling lightheaded and helpless at seeing his brother in this condition.

"Wh…what happened?" he asked no one in particular, a distinct tremor in his voice.

One boy, whose name Dean couldn't even remember, answered with an equally trembling voice, "We…we heard Sam's screaming and when we came out here, we s…saw Sam was bending dangerously over the railing. When I called him, he startled and just collapsed without warning." The boy was fidgeting and rubbing his hands together in extreme nervousness. "His…his nose started bleeding…we should call a doctor…"

"Is he sick?" A girl asked Dean but he didn't answer. His whole attention was solely on his brother.

"He's seemed kinda distracted since yesterday. What's wrong with him?" Another boy asked with concern.

"He's got a fever too." A second girl stated and that got Dean to place his palms over Sam's pasty white, sweaty forehead. _**'Jeez, you're burning up, kiddo!' **_

"We should take him…"

Suddenly a soft moan escaped from Sam's mouth and Dean immediately started assessing his brother, lightly patting the boy's cheek with one hand.

"Sam? Sammy, wake up. Open your eyes, kiddo."

"Uhhhhhhh…" Sam groaned and rolled his head slowly in the crook of Dean's elbow.

"Hey hey, Sam. Wake up little brother. Tell me what's wrong." Dean cajoled his sick brother while wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

He was rewarded when Sam's eyelids fluttered open and he looked at Dean with fever-glazed and bleary hazel eyes.

"D'n…"

Hearing his brother's weak voice, Dean pulled him a little closer to his face and asked soothingly.

"Yes Sammy, I'm here. Tell me, where're you hurting, little brother?"

"De'n…I…I…"

"You what, Sammy?"

"I…I saw…"

'_**Oh my God, he's talking about his vision. No no no…not in front of everybody.' **_

"Okay Sammy, let's getch'a outta here, alright buddy?" Dean tried to distract Sam's mind from the recent vision by getting him to focus on another task. "Think you can stand up?"

"De'n, I…saw…" Sam's voice was getting weaker with each passing seconds and Dean understood it was now useless trying to sidetrack his brother's train of thought. His brother was hurt, delirious with a vision-induced fever and trying to say something that was obviously very important to him. Hoping that no one would get any solid idea of what Sam was trying to inform him, he leaned towards Sam's face which was only a couple of inches away from his own and whispered…

"What did ya see Sammy?"

"…uhhh…dying…" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper now, eyes gradually drooping closed.

Dean spared a cautious look to the light crowd of students around them and whispered back.

"Who…who is dying, Sammy?"

"…Me…"

With that, Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and his body went completely limp, leaving his big brother holding his lax frame in his arms; scared, alone and lost in the abyss of extreme fear of losing his beloved little brother.

"Sammy!"

* * *

**TBC**

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing my loyal reviewers. Love you.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: - Thanks to my two awesome beta readers Vonnie and Jules, you two are just great! **

**A/N: - Whoa, I was overwhelmed by the reception to the last chapter. Thank you my friends for sticking with me and leaving such awesome REVIEWS! You all are just FANTASTIC. Love you.**

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* * *

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**POWER SURGE**

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* * *

**

It had been two hours.

Dean sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his face.

It had been two hours since he returned home. Two long hours he had been waiting for his brother to wake up. Sam… Sighing exhaustedly Dean got up from his bed and picked the sodden washcloth from the bowl. Sam's fever had risen high and he was sweating profusely. It was almost around 103, last time Dean checked. He had tried to wake Sam numerous times, but his brother remained deeply unconscious. He did not even flinch or make a noise when Dean unwound the bandage from his arm, put some antibiotic on the injury and re-bandaged it. The wound was deep and when Dean removed the white gauze, it was bleeding. Sam had re-opened some of his stitches; must have happened during the argument when Dean grabbed him unknowingly.

Dean flinched at the memory of Sam's injury. It was a gunshot wound. Sam had been shot.

Tears welled in Dean's eyes as the thought of how close he had come to losing his little brother assaulted him. _**'Some big brother I am. Sammy was shot, my little brother was shot and I yelled at him! I hurt him again when he was already injured.'**_ Wringing the excess water out of the washcloth, Dean wiped his brother's face and neck before placing the cloth gently on Sam's forehead.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I should've known that something was wrong. I shouldn't have left you alone when I knew you've been suffering from those visions," Dean whispered to his insensate brother and ran his hand through Sam's soft brown hair.

Sam moaned softly and his head lolled on the pillow. Dean waited eagerly, hoping his brother would wake up now but except for that little movement Sam did not show much response.

"Sammy?" Dean was feeling beyond nervous. Why was his brother not waking up? It had been over two hours. Sam had been unconscious since using his 'Jedi-power' in the race to save his big brother from certain death. Dean shuddered at the memory of Sam bending over the roof railing with out-flung arms. Even though Sam had been the one to fling him off the roof in the first place, Dean knew it wasn't the kid's fault. Thankfully Sam had pulled out of the vision just in time to save him.

Dean had witnessed how Sam used his newly discovered power to save him. But he must have pushed far beyond his limits and Dean didn't have any idea how much harm it had done to his brother.

Dipping the almost warm washcloth again into the cold water, Dean gently wiped his brother's chest, arms and neck to make him a little more comfortable. "Some birthday you have had today, huh Sammy?" Smirking mirthlessly, Dean swallowed the tears that had been threatening to choke him as he talked to an unaware Sam about his 'birthday'. "I didn't even get a chance to wish you a happy birthday, little brother!" Carefully gathering Sam's upper body into his arms so he could put some fresh clothes on him, Dean resumed his monologue, "Don't you want you present, birthday boy? Don't you want to see what your big brother has gotten for you?" Propping a couple of pillows against the headboard, Dean settled his limp brother onto them and got up to retrieve some fever-reducer from the first aid kit.

"You know Sammy; you can wake up now, little brother." Putting two Tylenol into a glass, he stirred until those tiny pills dissolved in the water, and settled again at his sibling's side. "I'm not mad at you anymore, Sammy." Dean patted Sam's cheek gently and sighed when the lack of response greeted him once again. Adjusting his little brother's body against his broad chest, Dean made sure that Sam's head rested in the crook of his left arm and placed the rim of the small glass between Sam's slightly parted lips. Dean felt a little relieved to see his brother's natural swallowing reflex was still active and with a little massaging on his throat, he could swallow the diluted medicine water.

After making sure that all the needed meds had gotten into his brother's fever-ravaged body, Dean lowered Sam onto the mattress and settled his head on the pillow so he could sleep a little better. Feeling exhausted, Dean slumped onto his own bed and let the weariness of the whole evening claim his body, mind and soul. He did not even bother to change his clothes; just threw his jacket on the floor and sagged against the lumpy mattress. Glancing at the digital clock which was now reading almost 9.15 p.m., Dean set the alarm so he could wake up in two hours to feed Sam more medicines. He rolled on his side so he could keep an eye on his sick brother. It would have been better if John had been home right now. Not that Dean couldn't take care of his little brother; but those dreadful incidents that had happened tonight were taking a toll on him too. Sighing, Dean let his eyes close as a mumbled plea slipped unconsciously from his lips,

"Dad, I need you, Dad."

* * *

**Lake View Motel, Milwaukee; Wisconsin. 9.00 p.m.**

John Winchester was getting impatient. His hunter buddy had not showed up yet, when he should have been there at least twenty minutes ago. John was a man of his word, if he decided that they should leave for the hunt at 8.30; that meant it had to be 8.30 on the dot. But his pal had not reached him yet, and John was getting fidgety. He just wanted to get rid off this minor hunt as soon as he could. He really wanted to be with his sons, especially Sammy, right now.

Sighing, John sat on the couch and pulled a worn out photo from his wallet. It was a group photo of him, an eleven-year-old Dean and little seven-year-old Sammy being cradled by him. A smile crept across his lips as he stared at the picture. His boys; the treasures of his unsettled life who meant the world to him. John knew he had not given his boy the life every child should live, but his boys never complained. Especially Dean. On the other hand, Sammy… it would be lying if he said that Sam had never complied about some things, but John could not blame him after all. The kid was smart, highly studious and being the inquisitive and emotional one, he always had a tendency to ask whatever popped into his mind. Sometimes, sure Sammy had gotten on his nerves, but John loved that little boy so much. Sam, his baby boy was his life; _Sammy_, Mary's last present to him, her legacy. And Dean was the born defender; he had sworn to protect his little brother who was his life too. His mother's precious gift to him, whom he had always wrapped under his wings of love and guardianship. Dean was the soldier, Sam was the researcher, and John was proud of the way they had grown; the two strong arms of his, they had been there whenever John needed them and would be always.

A soft knock suddenly interrupted the train of John's thought. Startled, he got up off the bed and tucked the photo back inside his wallet. Picking the Taurus pistol from the table nearby, he cautiously opened the door a fraction and gruffly asked, "Who's this?"

"Winchester, it's me, Crenshaw."

Sighing in relief, John tucked the pistol into his waistband and opened the door to welcome his guest.

"It's about time, Crenshaw. I was beginning to think that you wouldn't come along."

The burly hunter glanced cautiously around the small motel room before continuing, "I've been onto something. Been searching for something."

"You got another hunt?" John asked his former friend as he collected the necessary weapons for the job.

Picking at the scar above his right eyebrow, the demon hunter nodded. "Well, you could say that." Quickly changing the subject, he asked John, "So, ghouls huh!"

"Yeah." Grabbing the backpack full of arsenal, John turned around to face the other hunter.

"How many?"

"Probably two or three. We're gonna smite them off within a second." John stated proudly.

Eliciting a small crooked smile, the hunter also nodded in apprehension. "Yeah, let's go then and send those sons of bitches to hell."

Picking up the keys, John headed towards outside to where his truck was parked, the other hunter trailing in his wake.

* * *

**Missouri Moseley's residence; Lawrence, Kansas: 11 p.m. **

Missouri Moseley had been meditating in her private room after shooing all her customers out of her home. There had always been a queue outside her main door and that was what bothered her the most. But being a good-hearted person as well as a great psychic, Missouri had never offended a single people or said something that could make one heart heavy with grief and other crap. She had always let people believe what they wanted to believe, but that did not mean she had ever lied to anyone. That wasn't her business rules; she always told the truth but in her own way so people would not freak out or do something reckless.

Today, she was not in a very good mood. After getting the sudden phone call from her old friend John Winchester, telling her that his youngest son might be in danger, her concentration had just not been able to focus on anything else.

Inhaling a long, deep, cleansing breath, Missouri once again settled herself down to meditate. But the face of a sweet, innocent kid was still wandering around her sub-conscious mind. The first day she saw Sam Winchester, he was just a baby cradled in his father's lap. The day after Mary Winchester had died in that horrible fire, John came to her home with those little babies and asked for help to find his wife's killer. It was then that she first saw Sam; the beautiful baby was wrapped in a small baby blanket; sleeping peacefully in his daddy's embrace. But there was something different about him. Missouri could immediately sense the aura that had surrounded the little baby was very strong. Stronger than she had ever felt in her whole life, more powerful than any mature person could have in a certain age. She knew at that moment the baby was special, and after she revealed that to the young father, he was momentarily shocked speechless.

"_**Special? In what way?"**_

"_**I can sense his aura, John Winchester. It's very strong and powerful. He's a special child." **_

"_**I...I don't understand Ma'am, what…what are you…"**_

"_**Don't worry about your baby, John. He's going to be a great man in the future. I can sense his inner powers, his clean soul. He's a great boy, John…but…"**_

"_**But…but what Missouri?"**_

"_**I can also feel there are some evil forces hovering around him. You need to keep him safe forever. Don't ever let him get out of your sight."**_

_**Hugging the sleeping baby more securely to his chest, John pressed his lips to Sammy's soft hair and murmured, "I'll never. He's Mary's boy, Missouri. He's my baby."**_

_**Smiling fondly, Missouri continued. "But you need to be careful with him, John. He's different. He's gonna be more vulnerable when his psychic powers…"**_

"_**Wait…wait…wait…" John could not believe what he had just heard. 'What psychic powers?' Swallowing hard, John stuttered, "W-what are you talking about? What psychic powers?"**_

"_**Sammy's got some special powers in him. When he turns eighteen and becomes an adult, his power will start developing."**_

_**John's head was spinning. "No, no, no, no, no, it can't be true. My boy can't be…" **_

"_**No Missouri. Sammy can't be a psychic. He's normal, he's my baby boy, Missouri. He's my baby," John almost sobbed.**_

"_**John, listen to me." Missouri tried to console the stricken man. "He IS normal. You son is perfectly normal. You know, people born with these kinds of special powers, it could be God-gifted. See, I'm also one of them. So, are you afraid of me now just because I've got psychic powers?"**_

"_**No, I just…" John seemed to have lost his speech. "…you said evil forces…"**_

"_**Yes, they're still hovering around your boy. You need to watch out for him, protect him from whatever tries to get in his way."**_

"_**But these powers…aren't they supernatural? Don't tell me that in the future I might have to…if he can't control…" Tears were now running freely down his cheeks. 'Why Sammy? Why his baby boy?'**_

"_**NO, no John. Don't even think about that. Nothing bad's gonna happen to Sammy as long you and Dean are around him. The powers in him are his own. He'll just need to focus…"**_

"_**Focus?"**_

Suddenly Missouri flinched, her train of thought breaking as something flashed before her eyes. It was not clear, but she distinctly felt someone in pain; someone very close to her heart.

Putting both forefingers to her temples, Missouri concentrated, trying to detect the source of the painful transmissions.

"Oh holy God, Sam!"

Missouri sprang from her seat as fast her heavy body allowed and went to the corner where her ancient landline phone sat on a small table. Before she could pluck the receiver from the cradle, the phone rang and she knew who the caller was without hearing the voice.

"Dean? What's wrong with Sam?"

* * *

**Almost half an hour earlier:-**

Dean startled awake as a loud crash sounded in the silent room. Scrambling into a sitting position on the bed, he switched the tube light on, immediately spotting the night-lamp that had fallen to the floor and shattered into million pieces.

"What the hell?"

How could the lamp fall from the table? Dean looked at the tightly closed window, trying to find the source of the mishap, but his concentration broke as a groan came from the opposite twin bed where his little brother was currently lying.

"Sammy?"

Quickly getting up off the bed, Dean almost ran towards his brother and placed a comforting hand on Sam's profusely sweating forehead.

"You waking up, kiddo?" Dean asked. Muttering a curse when he got no response from his sick sibling, Dean leaned toward the nightstand and picked up the water bowl. _**'He's still got a high fever. Gotta cool him down.' **_While Dean was squeezing the excess water from the sodden washcloth, he heard Sam moan again. This time it was quite loud and he was mumbling something.

Putting the bowl onto the nightstand again, Dean leaned over his sleeping brother and saw Sam was rolling his head from side to side on the pillow. The beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead and he was gasping.

"Uhh…no…nonono…ahhh…"

Suddenly, the light started to flicker and then steadied again. Frowning, Dean quickly pulled the EMF meter from the drawer and checked for any spiritual activity in their house. But there was nothing. The room was completely clean, secured by the thick salt lines across every door and window.

"No, no Dad…please…"

'_**Dad!'**_

Dean turned to his brother with shock as Sam muttered their Dad's name with distress. _**'Oh my God, Sammy must be **__**having a vision.'**_

"NOOOOO…"

Suddenly Sam screamed, his back arching off the bed as though someone was torturing him. Thin arms flailed against the mattress as the young boy writhed helplessly.

"Sammy?"

Before Dean could reach to his brother's bed, a rattling noise suddenly filtered into the room from out of nowhere. Dean froze in mid-step, trying to work out what the _hell_ was going on. Cautiously, he scanned the whole room, his eyes widening in shock when he saw that almost every loose object in the immediate vicinity was starting to rattle as if some invisible force was shaking them. The jug, glass, books and various other items that had been piled haphazardly on the table began to fall, accompanied by a constant crashing and thumping sound.

Sam's body bucked again as another wave of vision-induced pain ravaged him and he almost screamed in agony.

Dean felt something like a wave of invisible water flow around the small motel room and hit him, knocking him off-balance as it passed through him. He stumbled and landed hard on his back. The tube light was flickering in and out constantly now, every small object in the room flying around like bullets.

"SAM, CALM DOWN! SAMMY!" Dean screamed, trying hard to calm his clearly not-in-himself and unaware-of-his-viciously- surging-power brother, but failed to reach the pre-occupied young man.

"SAM, LISTEN MY VOICE, SAMMY! YOU'VE GOTTA CALM DOWN, SAAAM!"

"NAHHH…PLEASE NOOOOOO…" Sam screamed again, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly the rattling and shaking took a turn to the worse. Every airborne item stilled before rising at least a foot higher. And then the storm began in earnest.

Dean watched in horror from his recumbent position on the floor, his gaze on the potential missiles hanging in the air. But he didn't stay that way for long as without warning, the table clock flew past his face, almost clipping his left ear. If he had not ducked in time, it would have left an ugly bruise on his face.

Dean hastily crawled closer to his brother, taking shelter beside Sam's bed. During his little trip, he got slammed a couple of times in the head and back by some flying object. Dean did not have any idea what sh*t those were; he was too busy making sure he didn't get his head cracked open by something harder than his thick skull. Cowering by the bed, he couldn't stop the feeing of desperation and uselessness welling over him. He couldn't stand to see his brother suffering like this; every fiber of his being yearned to comfort the boy. But, with the freaky 'stuff storm' going on around him, he couldn't even lift his head; left alone take care of his brother. He needed help; someone who could assist him in solving this problem.

Sammy needed help.

Dean shoved one hand into his jeans pocket and pulled his cell phone out. "Thank God I didn't get undressed tonight." Flipping the phone open, he almost hit the speed dial for his father's number, but then something clicked in his mind and he cut the call.

"Nonono, Dad can't help in this matter. We need someone else." Scrambling through the phonebook, he spotted the number of the old and wise psychic- **Missouri Moseley**.

Several agonizing seconds later, the phone at the other end was being picked up and he wasn't surprised when Missouri asked the very first question after receiving the call-

"_Dean? What's wrong with Sam?"_

Dean's voice was trembling badly with fear and anxiety. "I…I don't kn-know, Mi-Missouri! He was unconscious and next thing I know, he was having a vision."

"_Vision?"_

"Yeah, yeah!" Dean flinched as something crashed against the nightstand near his foot and broke instantly.

"_What's the noise, Dean? What's happening?"_ Missouri sounded anxious too.

"That's why I called you, Missouri." Dean's voice was cutting in and out as the rattling noise grew louder. "It's Sam's…Sam's power. It's got outta control…" The hideous din of the 'stuff storm' increased, making it almost impossible to hear.

"_What? Powers?"_ Missouri gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. _**'Oh, that poor boy'**_. Holding the receiver more tightly with both hands now, she almost screamed.

"_Dean, I need you to listen me very carefully__. You gotta get Sam to 'focus' onto something__, you understand?"_

"What? Missouri, I can't hear ya!"

The roaring noise within the room drowned out every other sound. God knew what the other inhabitants of the motel were making of this disturbance, Dean thought to himself. But he did not have time for this; he had a power-surging little brother to save from whatever was trying to hurt him. And this time, Dean was facing the most crucial test, because this time…it was 'Sam' himself from whom he needed to be protected. Dean had no clue how to rescue his brother from the trap of his own powers. All he knew was that if Sam could not control his growing abilities, it would most likely kill him and Dean could never let that happen…ever.

Missouri's disjointed voice crackled through the phone.

"_You…ne…foc…Dea…Sam…ha…fo…"_

"What, Missouri? I can't…can't hear you." Dean was almost screaming his lungs out but the roaring-howling of the 'inter-room Sammy-Jedi-Power storm' was too strong.

"_Bre…break…he… … …"_

Suddenly the cell phone flew from Dean's hand and crashed into the opposite wall.

That was the final straw for the panicked young hunter. "Screw the power surge…" Heaving himself up off the floor against the force of the supernatural storm, Dean clumsily gained his feet. "…Sammy needs me right now aaannnnd…" Dragging his body against the heavy force field, Dean bent over the bed where Sam was writhing in what seemed to be extreme pain. _Hell, he WAS in extreme pain_, the worried elder brother thought silently, having been caught in a horrible vision and unconsciously surging his inner power – that wasn't exactly a freaking dance party. "…screw Missouri, I'm gonna get you outta your own power prison, Sammeh…" Dean deliberately ignored the impact as something hard hit the side of his head and made him see some wonderful multicolored spots before his eyes, but he shook off the pain and perched on the edge of Sam's bed.

Sam was gasping painfully; a strange, strangled noise coming form his throat. His neck was arching off the pillow so hard that the cords of his throat were clearly visible. Both fists clutched handfuls of the bed sheets and he was sweating profusely.

Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder and yanked the boy towards his chest. He didn't know if it was wise to jolt Sam out of the vision, but he could not watch his brother's pain anymore. Dean felt another hard bump against his back, but did not react with as much a flinch. He was a hunter for God's sake and he wouldn't give a rat's ass at those small bumps.

"SAM! WAKE UP. SNAP OUTTA THIS SAMMY. THIS IS AN ORDER, **SAMUEL WAKE UP**!" Dean shook his almost unresponsive sibling; Sam's head bobbing loosely up and down with the violent movement.

"AHHHHHHHH…" Another agonized grunt came out of Sam's mouth. Dean immediately cupped the back of Sam's head and pressed the boy's face securely into the crook of his own neck as another surge of the power storm sent objects flying around him.

"SAM, WAKE UP DAMNIT! WAKE UP."

"NOOOOOOOOOO…"

Sam let out a guttural, blood-curdling scream and shoved Dean away from him. Dean tumbled onto the mattress, watching worriedly as Sam fell back on the opposite side of the bed. But then he noticed the most important thing – the power storm had stopped. Dean scanned the whole room with unsure glances, not quite willing to believe the evidence of his own eyes. But it was true- as soon as Sam had screamed and collapsed again, the howling-growling supernatural hurricane had stopped instantly, all the loose debris in the air crashing to the floor.

Sam was moaning again, but this time he seemed to be waking up. Without losing another precious second, Dean leapt up and leaned over his little brother. Brushing some wayward sweat-drenched hair from Sam's pasty white fever-hot forehead, Dean asked softly, "Sammy, you with me, little brother?"

Sam rolled his head slightly towards his sibling's voice and opened his eyes to mere slits, his brow furrowing with the effort to focus. As soon his gaze fell upon his big brother, Sam swallowed nervously, unable to keep his tears at bay. His eyes filled and overflowed, his chest hitching.

Seeing his brother crying, Dean felt his heart clench with grief and pain. He could never stand Sam's tears. Wiping the heavily flowing tears away from his brother's eyes, Dean cooed soothingly, "Its okay Sammy. I gotcha'. I gotcha' baby brother, nothing bad's gonna happen to you now."

Sam hiccupped as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He could not bear what he saw in his vision. Seeing his 'own death vision' was bad, but what he had seen just now…was worse. Sam could stand his own death, but…

"De…Dean?"

"What it is, Sammy? Why are ya crying?"

"Dea…it's Dad."

"What's with Dad, Sammy?"

Fear gripped Dean with an icy hand. Sam just had experienced a vision and now he was talking about their dad. Dean had almost drowned in horror when Sam had told him on the school roof that he had seen his own death in a vision, but he had sworn to himself that he could never let it happen because he would never let Sam get out of his sight ever again. But Dad? What could have happened? What had Sammy seen?

"Sammy? Dad what?"

"Dad…he – he's **DEAD**."

* * *

**TBC**

**

* * *

**

"**It's too late for you to make me stay. No, I won't stay. So, I'm running away, I'm leaving this place…" LOL… **

**The song's not mine, it belongs to Midnight Hour. But seriously, I should run away right now… I don't wanna die. **

**Sorry for the cliffy… but I "PROMISE" I'll update shortly. Let me know what you think about this chapter. Your reviews mean the world to me. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N 1:- ****Thanks**** to my two wonderful beta-readers **_**'Vonnie' **_**and **_**'Jules'**_**. You're the best :)**

**A/N 2:- ****I just want to say how much I've appreciated the reviews and private messages I've received. Thank you so much** hotshow, Ani101, 123kat, Cold Kagome, Netmyne01, Sammygirl1963, Cindy123, Sparkiebunny, BranchSuper, Joby87, Gabi2305, skag trendy, Cainchan, Madebyme, vonnie836, carocali, epex, CosmicEssence, supernaturalsammy67, Gilded, CeCe Away and Lizzie18salmons**! You're the Best.**

**A/N 3: - This chapter's dedicated to my 'aw-sam friend/ big sister' **_**Cindy**_** for giving me world's best gift- ****"Jared's Autograph"**** and passing my love to him. THANK YOU…**

* * *

**Power Surge**

* * *

_"Dad…he – he's__**DEAD**__."_

Dean was shocked speechless after hearing those uncanny words being spilled from Sam's mouth. His head had started to swim now. Blinking repeatedly, Dean tried to ease the spinning sensation and focused back on his sick brother who was still lying in the bed; whimpering softly.

'_**Dad's dead!'**_

Dean's mind was still reeling from the revelation. _**'No no no no no, this can't be happening. Dad…' **_Swallowing nervously, Dean moved a little closer to his recumbent brother, and grasped his shoulder gently.

"Sammy? What're you talking about?"

Sam seemed to have succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a light doze after facing the horrible power-induced vision, but immediately jolted back to reality when his shoulder was lightly jostled. Dean's heart ached as Sam peered up at him with those pretty pain-filled hazels and tried to swallow.

Dean immediately understood what Sam needed now without being told and picked a glass half filled with water. He could see Sam was having trouble with speaking and swallowing due to dehydration. Mentally counting so he could keep himself calm, he knew if he freaked out right now, it would do no good to his already too sick and injured little brother. He had to focus on his main priority first, and then he would think about his next most important thing.

Dean carefully grasped Sam's shoulders and wrapped a protective arm around them, careful not to jar his wounded limb too much. Sam was too weak to even sit up properly on his own and that was the thing freaking Dean out royally. Sam's body was burning up with raging fever and Dean could tell even with his eyes closed it had probably now climbed over 102 degrees. He was contemplating whether he should take Sam to a hospital before beginning a search for their father.

Dean started as Sam murmured something too softly to hear, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He peered down at his brother settled securely in the crook of his left arm.

"What Sammy? What about Dad? What did you see?"

Gasping a little, Sam looked at him through his unruly chocolate brown fringe and swallowed convulsively.

"I…I…uh…saw…Dad…Dad…oh…those things killed him."

"You mean the ghouls?" Dean's heart was beating erratically inside his ribcage. _**'C'mon ghouls? Those freakin' hell spawns can't just kill John Winchester.'**_ Rubbing a weary hand across his mouth, Dean asked, "But, how can those sons'a bitches kill Dad, Sammy? He was prepared. And…and he's killed so many of these kinda things before."

Sam's eyes were drooping closed in extreme exhaustion, but he tried his best to stay awake. His body was aching form head to toe; and the pain of his shot hand was killing him. But, Sam knew what he saw in his vision was true, not to mention- horrible. His Dad's life was at stake and they had to do something, otherwise it would be too late.

Moving a little away form Dean's confined embrace, Sam weakly pushed himself up onto his elbows to a half sitting position.

"He…uhh… he must'a miscalculated their position and numbers." Sam panted. "There were so many ghouls, Dean and… and… they seemed to have been prepa...prepared." His voice choked as a painful hacking cough assaulted his already weak body, making him sag limply against his brother's chest.

"Its okay, Sammy. I gotcha', I gotcha' little brother." Dean tucked Sam's head under his chin and rubbed his back. The concern for Sammy had gradually been escalated; along with this the fear for his father constantly nagging inside his heart.

"They…uh…uh…musta' be'n keepin' a tr…track on 'im…" Sam panted miserably. "…we gotta…save 'm…"

Dean looked at his watch and frowned. It was 11.25 p.m. He started thinking fast. _**'Dad said he'll head to the spot around midnight. That means, if we…'**_ Squaring his shoulders, Dean laid Sam back onto the mattress and went to the corner to gather some needed supplies and arsenal for the hunt.

Sam understood within a second what his big brother was up to. Grunting in pain, he somehow managed to roll onto his side and again pushed himself up to a sitting position. His whole body was aching in massive pain, but he knew he could not let Dean go alone on that very dangerous hunt. It would kill his brother eventually. There were lots more ghouls in that cemetery than they could have imagined in their worst nightmares.

"Dean."

Dean heard his brother's whisper but did not look back at him. He knew Sam would want to go with him. But his little brother was way too sick; could not even stand up on his own. If something happened to Sammy along with their father… _**'I could never forgive myself…'**_

"Dean!"

Sam asked again, this time a little louder.

"Dad said he would head for the hunt around midnight. That means I still got time to reach the cemetery and join him." Shoving his things hastily inside his duffel, Dean quickly went the bathroom, filled the now empty glass with cool water and put it onto the nightstand beside Sam's bed.

Sam was watching him quizzically.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

Placing three pills beside the glass, Dean pulled out his sneakers and put them on quickly. He could feel Sam's gaze following him continuously, but he deliberately ignored him. _**'I can't take Sammy with me. This could turn out dangerous and he's so sick and just suffered a major vision attack'.**_

"I'm going on the hunt." Dean watched his little brother grunt in pain as he stubbornly got to his feet and swayed alarmingly. "Sammy, what're you doing? Have you gone mad?" Crying aloud, Dean almost ran towards his brother and caught him by the biceps before he could fall down.

Sam panted in exasperation, squirming weakly to get rid of his brother's gentle but firm grip and cried, "I'm going with you."

"No."

"Yes Dean, I…uh…I'm going." Swallowing hard as a tickle started to irritate his already sore throat, Sam tried to push Dean off him. "Da…dad's in dan…uuhhh…ger…" Sam blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his still blurred vision. "… you don't un…understand Dean…Dad's gonna…" Tears spilled from his eyes despite his best efforts to hold them back, but pain and fever finally won the battle and Sam sobbed pathetically. "…please Dean. They're gonna kill Dad. Please…"

_**"Dad…he – he's**__**DEAD**__**."**_

Dean shook his head as he remembered Sam's prediction from his last vision. His heart was thudding loudly; his father's life was on the stake and his baby brother was dangerously sick. He was the only Winchester who would now have to make all the decisions.

"_**As long I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you Sammy."**_

"Please Dean," Sam's feeble voice again broke his stance and he desperately ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair.

Finally coming to a decision, Dean quickly grabbed a thick hooded jacket and helped Sam to get into it. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Sam's face break into a satisfied grin, but didn't let his little brother see his amusement. Instead, he muttered under his breath about 'how stubborn, pig-headed, pain-in-the-ass a little brother could be' and handed him those pills.

"Alright, I'll take you but on one condition…" Dean help up a warning hand as Sam opened his mouth to protest, feeling a little relieved when the boy immediately stopped. "…you won't get out from the car, no matter what happens. I repeat, No. Matter. What. Happens, you stay in the freakin' car. Got it?"

Knowing it would be useless arguing with Dean, Sam grumbled under his breath but agreed anyway and quickly swallowed the pills.

"You ready Sammy?"

"Yeah."

Sighing, Dean bent a little and helped his somewhat fragile baby brother stand to his feet. Draping an arm around Sam's shoulders, Dean maneuvered him towards the door and murmured-

"I know I'm gonna regret this."

* * *

**Good Hope Cemetery, ****Milwaukee; Wisconsin:- **

John anxiously chewed his lower lip as he waited for the nasty ghouls to show up. It had been almost half an hour since they'd arrived at the graveyard. He looked at his watch and sighed; 12:36 a.m. _**'God knows how long we'd have to wait to kill those hell spawns,'**_ John thought bitterly and craned his neck to see what his hunting partner was doing.

Crenshaw crouched down too behind the trees a few feet away from John. His senses were on high on alert, gaze moving around the whole yard, trying to track anything that could be referred to as supernatural. He just wanted to finish this freaking hunt as soon as possible; he did not want to come along at all actually, but John was his best hunting partner and he owed the man. Sighing, Crenshaw hung his head as he remembered how John had risked his life once to save him and all he wanted was to return the favor. So, when John asked him to join him on this job, he just could not deny the request. _**'As soon I finish this hunt, I can go and find those psychic freaks. According to Gordon, two or three psychic kids are still out here in this town. I gotta find and finish 'em off soon.' **_

Suddenly, a faint sound of crunching dry leaves pulled him back into reality and he warily straightened up. It was dark, only some faint light from the cemetery lamp-posts was illuminating the whole vacant eerie land of the dead. He pulled out his sharp machete and put it on the ground within arms' reach. Making quick eye contact with John who had also been highly prepared for the next assault, Crenshaw tightened his grip around the shotgun and aimed toward the upcoming threat.

John scanned the whole area and quickly spotted a shadowy scrawny figure coming out of the woods opposite where the hunters were waiting in ambush. Gritting his teeth, John aimed at the thing and moved the barrel of his shotgun along its trajectory.

The creature looked nasty. It was grayish in color, its whole face and body covered with dirt and mud. It must have crawled out of some dirt hole where they tended to hide during the day. It was boney; those round globes which might once have been called eyes were almost hanging out of their sockets. Hands were kind of long and hanging by its sides, feet dragging a little on the damp ground as it trudged along.

John watched the creature with raw concentration as it bent down beside a grave and started to scratch at the earth with its bare hands. Grimacing in utter disgust, John got up quickly and pulled the trigger, shooting directly at its head.

The creature was dead before it realized what was happening. Its decapitated body fell heavily to the ground, shattered pieces of skull and bits of organic matter that John didn't even want to look at, much less analyze, pattering onto the grass around the corpse in a grisly shower.

John let the shotgun sag out of line and stepped towards the lifeless body of the creature. Poking its side with his left foot, John smirked in satisfaction.

"And I call it- _**Head Shot**_."

But his triumph did not stay long as Crenshaw's warning shout came from their hidden area and he spun quickly to see another ghoul trudging his way with outstretched hands.

"JOHN, DOWN."

John did not have to be told twice. No sooner had he ducked when a gunshot hit the creature directly in the chest and it fell backwards. Without wasting a second, John pulled the machete from his jacket and with lightning speed; he separated its head from its body.

John was panting in over-exertion. _**'Hell, that was so close.'**_ He was sweating even in that Wisconsin cold. Hearing the sound of quick footsteps, he looked around and saw Crenshaw running towards him. The other hunter slid to a halt and pulled him to his feet.

"You okay John?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. Thanks Logan."

"We wait or shall we go now?"

"Lets take a quick look around the grounds, and then we'll leave."

"Whatever you say, Winchester. Let's start searching."

Despite fifteen minutes of relentless searching, they found nothing. It was all quiet, too much silence for comfort. It was just too easy. Although hunting ghouls was the piece of cake for the mighty John Winchester, but still; something did not feel right. Something was surely off around here.

"Found anything?" John asked Logan, when he met with him at their rendezvous point.

"No, nothing." Logan chewed his lower lip before continuing. "Searched the whole area. All clear."

John nodded and put his shotgun back in his jacket, but kept the machete in his hand. He started to walk back towards the exit, saying, "Let's get back to the…" but before he could finish his sentence, he heard Logan scream in agony and saw a ghoul had jumped from a tree to land directly on his friend.

Clamping his jaws in determination and anger, John gripped the machete tightly with both hands and swung at the head of the ghoul. The monster died instantly, but the danger was not over yet and John could sense that. Before he could help his friend get to his feet, something grabbed his ankles in a death grip and yanked hard. John overbalanced, landing heavily on his side.

"What the hell?" John saw two scrawny hands poke up through the ground and grab his ankles. He tried to kick the filthy hands off him and scramble back. John eyes widened in horror as he watched the hands scuffle through the layers of dirt and grass to make space and hauled itself out onto the ground. His breathing quickened as he realized the thing almost had him cornered. Looking at his friend, he was dismayed to see that Logan had also been caught by another ghoul that had seemingly popped out of nowhere, and was currently staring dumbfounded at it.

Before John could reach out to grab his shotgun, the creature let out an ear-splitting shriek and then the whole graveyard started to tremble. John watched in bewilderment as several parts of the ground started to break open and so many ghouls began to rise from the resulting holes. The sickening cracks were literally bone-chilling, as the creatures crawled their way out and advanced towards the almost defenseless hunters.

Swallowing nervously, John could utter only four words before one of the ghouls hauled him to his feet by grabbing his throat.

"We are so screwed."

* * *

Sam was staring at the dark outside word through the Impala's passenger side window. It had already been half an hour since they left their motel in the race to find and save their dad. Stealing a glance towards his big brother who was driving the car in grim silence, Sam noted that Dean was pushing the Chevy well beyond the speed limit. Although Dean had asked Sam whether he was alright and as usual got the wrong _'I'm fine, Dean'_ answer, Sam knew Dean did not believe him. Hell, anyone could tell without sparing a second glance that he was far from fine. But their dad needed them… _especially him_. He just knew it.

Sam shivered, both in fever and the memory of his latest vision where his Dad's body had been ripped to shreds by the ghouls. He could still see John's lifeless eyes staring at nothing. His breathing sped up a notch as the vicious memories assaulted his senses; his eyes were hurting with the pressure of the heavy migraine headache. Tugging his long strands of hair, Sam tried to stifle a groan but a pained whisper came out of his mouth nonetheless.

"_Dad!"_

Dean saw his brother wince in pain and immediately reached out a hand to grab his shoulder.

"Sammy, you okay!" Dean's voice was full of both concern and fear for his brother. _**'Damnit, he's getting sick again. I shouldn't have brought him with me. He should've been in the hospital, not riding in the damn car chasing after ghouls with a bullet hole in his freakin' arm.'**_ He had almost pressed the brake pedal, but Sam's hoarse plea did not let him.

"Don't stop. Uhh… pl's… don' stop."

"Damn it Sam, what'm I gonna do now?" Dean was almost on the verge of breakdown himself. The weight of the past day and current situation were crushing him down. He couldn't watch his brother suffering this much anymore and on top of that, his inner Sammy-radar was constantly telling him 'something bad's gonna happen to Sammy'. "Damn it." Dean punched the steering wheel in utter frustration. "Damnit damnit DAMNIT."

Sam could see what was his brother thinking right then, but he was sure as hell that he wouldn't let Dean make any wrong decision on account of him. He had to be strong, strong enough to reach and save their dad.

Suppressing a pained groan, Sam straightened up a little and tried to put on a brave face in front of his brother. "How far are we?"

"No far, we're only a couple of miles away."

Anxiously chewing his nails, Sam only muttered, "Drive faster."

* * *

By the time Dean reached the cemetery, it was almost one a.m. Before he could stop the car properly, his eyes immediately spotted his dad suspended in mid-air by a ghoul and there were countless more in a loose circle around him. His breath caught at the sight and for a mere second he forgot what to do.

Try not to hyperventilate, Dean quickly parked the car where no one could see it and quietly eased out of the driving seat. Sam was currently sleeping in the passenger seat, completely unaware of what was happening in the cemetery, and Dean was partially thankful for that.

"Thank God Sammy's sleeping, he won't have to see what's happening or I'd be forced to lock him inside."

The pain pills Sam had taken before their departure had made him sleepy and he would be out for the count for at least couple of hours. Without wasting another precious second, Dean opened the car's trunk, pulled out a machete and headed at a dead run towards the battlefield.

* * *

John knew he was a goner; the ghoul had him suspended in the air and the crushing pressure on his throat was getting tighter. He could not breathe. John tried to kick the thing off, but it was not that easy. From the corner of his eyes he saw his partner was laying on the ground out cold. Another ghoul must have punched him and knocked him out and now; a couple of those nasty hell spawns were busy peeling off his outfit so they could eat him alive. John knew his time was running out too. He would not survive this. Black spots danced in his vision as his eyes started to roll back into his head and his body began to shut down. _**'If I could see Sammy and Dean one last time…'**_ before John could finish his last thought, he heard someone yell in a very familiar voice-

"Get your filthy hands off my dad, you fugly son of a bitch!"

And then, he heard the gunshot.

Something sprinkled across John's mouth and face as the ghoul lost his head and dropped him from his suspended position.

"Oww, gross."

John's face was smeared with ghoul's blood and God knew what other 'grey or whatever matter' they could have in their so-called head. His gut was twisting in disgust, but he knew he did not have time to get sick. Dean was there shooting the ghouls, but most of the shots were hitting the wrong spots like gut and chest. But it did slow them down.

Dean quickly threw another shotgun to his dad and re-positioned himself to shoot. There were lots of ghouls, they were coming from everywhere. John shot some of them quickly and went towards his friend where three or four of the monsters were trying to eat him alive. John grabbed the machete and after a minute, there were four headless bodies lying beside his friend.

Crenshaw was still unconscious, but John did not have the time to wake him up. Instead, he stood still in front of him and shot as many ghouls he could manage. He looked at Dean, whose face was stoic like stone and he was firing without blinking an eyelid.

"Dad, I'm running outta ammo. What're we gonna do now?" Dean shouted as he shot another ghoul in the head.

"Damnit, my ammo's getting low, too," John yelled back, killing another of the creatures. "They're everywhere. We can't take them all down tonight."

"I've never seen so many ghouls at once." Gritting his teeth, Dean quickly shot twice. They had already killed more than half of them, but there were still too many for comfort.

"Where's Sammy?" John screamed, trying to make himself heard over the screeching, shrieking and booming sounds that filled the area.

"He's in the car, sleeping."

"Sleeping?" John sounded dumbfounded first; then his voice morphed into irritation. "Why isn't he helping us out?"

"He's sick Dad." Cocking the gun's head, Dean shot another ghoul and answered, "I mean, really sick."

"What? He was alright when I saw him this morning. How could he fall sick within this short span of time?"

'**Click click' **

"Oh Hell."

The clicking sound of an empty shotgun magazine made Dean's heart skip a beat. He was out of ammo and there was still at least ten or twelve ghouls left.

John kept shooting but he knew he was also running extremely low on bullets. No sooner had he thought about this, when the empty clicking sound of his gun also filtered through the atmosphere.

They could see the remaining ghouls slowly but steadily advancing towards them. There was no way they could get away from this dangerous situation.

"Dean?"

"Dad?"

"We're dead."

'_**Sammy?'**_

Dean wasn't scared of his death. But his only concern was his brother. If he died tonight, who would take care of his little brother? How would Sammy survive?

His thoughts did not stay on his brother for long as the ghouls circled around them and suddenly he felt a filthy, stinky hand wrap tightly around his throat. Dean gagged in pain as the creature hauled him off the ground. Another one or two of them were pinning his dad to a tree. Dean tried to kick but failed and yelped in agony as the ghoul slammed him hard against another tree.

Dean could not breathe, he knew he would be dead soon and this time there would be no escape from this death trap like he had experienced earlier in the evening. He wondered for sometimes what was the position of his fortune star today? How could one face his own death twice within a couple of hours?

His protesting was getting weaker with each passing moment. He could feel his eyes were rolling back into his head. '_**God I wish I had left Sammy in the house. These ghouls will kill him too after they finish us.'**_ He had almost blacked out in the lack of oxygen; when suddenly he heard a gunshot and the hold on his throat got loose.

Dean dropped like a fallen log onto the ground and coughed harshly. His vision was still blurred. Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear the haze and saw his little brother standing a few feet away holding a shotgun and wavering like a leaf trapped in a twister.

And then Sam shot again, missing the ghoul's head by a fraction.

Dean watched in horror as the ghouls advanced towards his brother and one of them backhanded him hard across the face. He saw Sam fall to the ground and two of them drop beside him to pin his arms while the other straddled his upper body and yanked his outer jacket open so it could eat him alive.

"**No Saaammmmy!" **

Before Dean could get to his feet, the other creatures jumped on him and punched him in face. All four hunters were down and this time, there was no way to get out except waiting for the final breath.

_And then-_

The miracle happened…

* * *

**TBC**

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**Ummm… You're not gonna kill me….are you! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: - I don't own Sam (sigh), Dean, John and those nasty ghouls. **

**A/N: - As always, ****thanks****to my two wonderful beta-readers**_**'Vonnie'**_**and**_**'Jules'**_**. Especially, Vonnie+medical knowledge = AwSam :) **

**A/N: - I**** want to thank everyone****who reviewed, sent me a message, or put this story on alert.****Your support is overwhelming, inspiring and very much appreciated. Thank you friends :)**

**

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**POWER SURGE

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**

Sam jerked awake as the sound of the booming shotgun and inhuman screeching filtered through the atmosphere. Gasping, he shot up off the upholstery and noticed he was alone in the car. The car heater was blowing in full force and all the windows were up; but he could still hear the muffled sound of gunshots coming from somewhere near. _**'Can't believe I fell asleep on the job'.**_ The bitter thought assailed him as he unlocked the passenger side door with shaking hands and clumsily got out of the car. _**'Oh God, my head's killing me'**_, Sam groaned inwardly as a bout of vertigo attacked him full force but he braced himself by holding the edge of the car door before he keeled over.

Another loud boom of the shotgun made Sam spring back to action. Blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes, he grabbed the shotgun from the backseat and stumbled towards the battlefield.

"Oh no, Dean!"

Sam's eyes widened as he saw an ugly looking ghoul holding Dean suspended in the air with a hand locked around his throat. He could see Dean was choking and knew it wouldn't take much longer before the elder boy stopped breathing altogether. Without wasting another precious second, Sam aimed and shot directly at the monster's head.

But the constantly rising fever was making his limbs extremely shaky. Although he had aimed correctly, his shot missed by a fraction and the bullet hit the ghoul in the back.

Sam watched the ghoul spin around to face him. His vision was dimming in and out, black spots were dancing in front of his eyes; but he somehow shook the sensation off. _**'Dean and Dad need me; can't lose the battle right now'.**_ Gritting his teeth, Sam grabbed the gun tightly and shot again.

Again the creature got off lucky and advanced quickly towards the sick youngest hunter. Sam was shaking violently, both in fever and fear for his family. There were lots of deadly ghouls and his brother and father were both trapped. Before Sam could gather himself, he felt a bone-breaking slap across his cheek and fell to the ground. His head was spinning; he knew it wouldn't take long before he passed out. Feeling some scrawny hands pin his arms to the ground and others straddling his legs, he tried to scream; but no sound came out of his mouth.

Sam was almost sure he was going to die, when suddenly he heard his brother scream-

"**No Saaammmmy!"**

Sam somehow rolled his head towards his brother's direction and saw in horror that another ghoul had jumped on Dean and hit him hard in the face. He paid no attention to his own condition as he watched his brother gasping for breath and his Dad also being strangled by another couple of ghouls.

'_**They're gonna die, they're gonna die Sam! DO SOMETHING.'**_ His conscience was screaming at him, seeing his whole family about to be murdered in front of his eyes. Sam was panting erratically as fear of losing his family settled inside his heart. Suddenly, he felt a burning sensation slowly crawling inside his chest and his vision whited out.

"**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…"**

An earth-shattering scream burst out from Sam's mouth and his whole body convulsed like he was being electrocuted. A faint off-white light slowly started seeping from his body and he jerked his hands up in the air as if trying to dislodge something. Less than a second later, the ghouls that had been holding him down were thrown backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

Sam was seeing everything through a white haze. He did not know what was happening to him. All he could see were ghouls trying to kill his brother and father and he had to save them any way he could. His body was becoming uncomfortably hot and he was having trouble breathing; but at the same moment, he was feeling extremely powerful. Slowly getting to his feet, Sam looked at his hands which were now faintly glowing and he knew then and there, it was the only chance to save his Dad and brother.

"**Get the hell away from my brother."

* * *

**

Dean could not believe what was happening in front of his eyes. Moments before, he knew he was a goner; his little brother and Dad would also follow his trail soon. But within a fraction of a second, everything had changed so suddenly. Without warning the ghouls were plucked unceremoniously from Sam's body and then his once ailing brother stood up and literally growled.

"**Get the hell away from my brother."**

"Sammy?"

A soft whisper left Dean's mouth when he saw Sam's whole body somehow glowing. A pale white light seemed to be emanating from his slender frame. But the most shocking thing - the mere sight making Dean's breath almost catch in his throat- was that Sam's eyes were glowing white, as if…his hazel-green irises were gone or rolled back into his head; only the white balls were showing in their sockets.

Sam raised both arms as if he was trying to pluck something off the ground, and Dean watched the ghouls that were holding him down suddenly levitate off the ground. The monsters were flung far away from him, high-pitched shrieks filling the air as the creatures collided with each other.

Sam moved like a robot and again, flung his left arm towards his father; and within a minute the remaining ghouls piled up onto each other like a garbage heap.

"**Leave them ALONE."**

Another bone-chilling growl came from Sam's mouth as he fought the ghouls. He couldn't see that all creatures were already defeated and lying piled on top of each other. The surging power within his mind was whitening out his vision and all he could make out were some vague, blurred figures which he thought were his enemies too.

Dean could understand what kind of turmoil was playing in Sam's mind; he had seen this before. Sam wasn't himself; he was trapped inside the prison of his own power. Dean's breath hitched as Sam's nose started bleeding all of a sudden.

"Oh no no no no,! Not again. SAMMY" Screaming at the top of of his lungs, Dean scrambled to his feet and ran towards his oblivious power-surging brother.

"DEAN! What's going on?" John shouted as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The profound shock of seeing his youngest son turn into some kind of power booster and hurl the dangerous ghouls far away from them as if they were mere rag dolls had rendered the hunter almost incapable of coherent thought.

Dean did not acknowledge his father; he was too busy calming Sam down. Sam was still shaking, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he was trying to control the extremely violent storm raging within.

"SAM! CAMN DOWN SAM, YOU'VE GOT TO CALM DOWN."

Sam slowly turned towards the sound of Dean's voice, but could not understand what was being said or who was talking. All he could see were threats that were trying to kill his Dad and brother. Blood gushed from his nose like a leaking faucet, but he was not even aware of that. All Sam could sense were two blurred figures coming at him, and thought they were coming to kill him.

"No no no no no no…"

Sam tried to defend himself once again, but without warning a white-hot pain seared through his head and brought him to his knees. His vision started fading in and out, but at least the power storm had stopped as suddenly as it begun.

Grabbing his head with both hands, Sam inhaled a deep breath. His whole body was getting heavy, blood rushing down from his head, making him extremely lightheaded. Groggily, he peered through his chocolate brown fringe and saw two vague shapes still heading towards him. Blinking lazily, Sam tried to call out for his brother, but blood gushed out of his mouth instead of words and trailed down his chin. Hands fell away from temples as Sam slowly sagged sideways. He lost consciousness before his body hit the ground.

* * *

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Dean watched his brother drop to his knees and look at him without a shred of recognition in his eyes. Without wasting another moment, Dean increased his pace, screaming in utmost fear when Sam started throwing up blood. He watched in bewilderment as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and his listless body pitched sideways. Dean skidded the last few feet to his brother; catching Sam before he hit the ground.

"Sam? Ssa…Sammy?" Dean's voice trembled violently as he cradled Sam's body in his arms. Gently cupping the younger boy's face with his right hand, Dean lightly patted his cheek. "Sammy? Open your eyes, Sammy?"

Sam's head lolled under Dean's ministrations, but he didn't show any sign of regaining consciousness. Wearily, Dean pressed two fingers against Sam's carotid artery, sighing in mere relief after feeling a very faint pulse still beating beneath his fingertips.

"Oh thank God!"

Looking over his shoulder, Dean saw his dad decapitating the fallen ghouls' heads at breakneck speed._** 'Man, Dad's seriously a man of work. Never leaves anything undone.'**_

Suddenly, a choking and gurgling sound made Dean's head whip back towards his brother, who was now struggling to breathe as another mouthful of blood spewed from his lips.

"Oh no, SAMMY!" Dean cried in horror and quickly rolled Sam onto his side, so he would not drown in his own blood.

"What's going on? What's going on?" Dean almost cried seeing his baby brother bleeding this much and being unable to do anything to prevent it. "DAD, hurry up. Something's wrong with Sammy."

John skidded to a halt beside his fallen son and gasped at the sight of Sam's mouth covered in blood; a thick patch trailing down the side of his cheek_**. 'Oh my God, there's so much blood. My son, my baby boy…'**_

Without wasting another precious minute, John quickly bent down and picked up his unconscious son. His heart sank upon seeing how listlessly Sam's head was hanging over the crook of his arm. He could not sense Sam's presence anymore; it felt like his baby boy was gradually slipping away from him. Unable to hold his tears at bay, John sniffled miserably at seeing his son in this imperiled condition. He did not care if anyone saw his macho hunter self break down, not when his baby son's life was hanging by a thread.

Already running towards the haphazardly parked impala, John barked an order to his oldest son who was running beside him.

"Dean, go get some blankets from the trunk. We gotta keep Sammy warm until we reach the hospital." As soon as he finished speaking, John reached the Chevy and wrenched opened the back door.

Dean nodded and quickly did what he had been told. He slid into the rear seat and cradled Sam's upper body after John gently laid him onto the bench seat, and draped the blanked around the younger boy's shivering form.

"Keep a close eye on him, alright!" Quickly sliding behind the wheel, John revved the car and sped towards the main road. "Give 'im breathing support if things get worse." Looking at the fearful green orbs of his oldest through the rearview mirror, John bit his lip hard in an attempt to suppress his anxiety, and took a swift turn toward the road that led to the nearest hospital.

* * *

A pair of ash-hazel eyes had been watching every move the Winchesters made. He knew, his presence was completely forgotten by John Winchester while the man was busy with his gravely injured youngest son.

His son- he was _Sam Winchester_; the boy with dangerous psychic powers. The boy he had been looking for so long and did not have a single clue that he could be John Winchester's son. A hunter's son- what an irony! He had never thought in his worst dream that a hunter's kid could be the thing he had been hunting.

"And I missed him." Logan Crenshaw slapped his own head in frustration. "He was in front of me at the school, and I freakin' missed him. He's one of them."

Groggily getting to his feet, Logan smirked bitterly as he remembered how the young boy- the master of all psychic kids he had met and smitten- had used his unbelievable power and defeated all the ghouls that had been about to overrun them. But, he was not grateful to the boy for saving his life. "Demonic freaks like you shouldn't be wandering freely on the road, Sam Winchester." Staggering towards the parked car, he spoke again with much venom in his voice, "And this time, I won't miss you. No matter how much powers you got dormant in your damn tainted body or how hard your daddy tries to save you…" getting behind the steering wheel, he ignited the car engine, "…I'm going to kill you slowly but surely. Your head will be the ultimate prize for my collection, Sammy boy! I'm coming for you."

* * *

Two hours.

It had been two hours, but still they had not had any news about Sam after he was wheeled into the emergency room with doctors barking orders all around him.

Sighing exhaustingly, Dean leaned back in the hard hospital chair in the waiting room. His Dad was pacing around the confined area nervously; Dean had never seen his Dad distraught this much as he was tonight.

"Damn it."

Cursing softly, Dean rubbed a weary arm across his face and winced as his rough hand brushed the newly bandaged side of his forehead. After Sam had been wheeled in for treatment, the remaining Winchesters were taken to the other treatment room although forcefully, and attended to by the nurses. Thankfully, they hadn't suffered any life threatening injuries, although Dean had gotten a mild concussion, some nasty gashes on his face and upper torso and a swollen throat- _**'thanks goes to the ghouls for almost strangling me to death twice'**_ – Dean thought wryly and looked at his Dad who was now sitting beside him.

John looked haggard. Hair disheveled; eyes sunken into their sockets; heavy bruises standing out on his pale face and on the top of that, he had a cracked ankle _and boy_, did it hurt like a bitch. But what he and Dean suffered the most, was the trauma of seeing the baby of the family suffering beyond imagination. John knew the sight of his youngest coughing up blood and almost ceasing to breathe in the car would haunt him in his nightmares for the rest of his life. He still could hear Dean's frightened cry about Sam's lips turning blue and see the younger boy convulse against the eldest. He almost lost control of the car at that point, regaining the road just before the Impala hit a pole. Shuddering visibly at the horrible memory, John took a couple of deep breaths and leaned against the white tiled wall.

"Dad?"

John looked tiredly at his oldest, whose tear-rimmed green orbs were now staring at him.

"You o-okay, Dad?"

'_**No, I'm not okay Dean. I won't be okay until I know how's Sammy doing,' **_John's mind was screaming, but he knew he could not lose control right now. Dean had already suffered a panic attack when his almost cyanotic brother was ripped away from his embrace. If he lost control now…who would take care of Dean?

"Yeah," Eliciting a forced smile, John squeezed Dean's knee lightly in a reassuring manner, "yeah, I'm okay. How're you doing, sport?"

Dean knew what his Dad was trying to do, but it was not easy to overcome the emotion. Biting his lower lip, he tried to suppress his overwhelming urge to cry; _**'Yesterday was Sammy's birthday and all he got was pain and hurt instead of blessing, a cake with candles, a good night family dinner and love.'**_ Sniffling miserably, Dean buried his face in his hands. _**'I'm sorry Sammy, I shoulda' protected you, shoulda' kept you safe. You shouldn't have been here…'**_

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

Dean did not have any idea that he had blurted that out loud. He startled when John placed an arm around his slumped shoulders and pulled him close.

"It's okay Dean, everything's gonna be okay. Sammy'll be alright."

"You don't know Dad what he's been through all day." Dean softly cried. "I was so scared seeing him…"

"I know Dean, I was shocked myself seeing him…uh…his powers…"

"No Dad, you don't understand. Sam was…"

Dean's words cut off as a white-coated person emerged from the emergency room and asked for 'Family of Samuel Scofield'.

John and Dean stood up abruptly as his brother's name and their current alias was called.

"I'm his father, John. And this is his brother Dean." Quickly striding towards the young doctor with Dean in tow, John asked with urgency, "How's Sammy?"

Shaking the hunter's hand gently, the doctor nodded.

"I'm Doctor Chase, your son's attending surgeon. You son has suffered an extreme case of hypertension, in layman's term which is called high blood pressure and that has caused him to collapse with a profusely bleeding nose." The young doctor continued. "You said, you guys were mugged and got into a fight, right?"

"Umm, yeah. Those SOBs had us real off-guard, Doc and…and…uh, they hit Sammy you know and hit us too." John's mind was running fast, how to convince the doctor of the validity of their cover story instead of the truth. "…they…they had weapons…and when the locals came to help us, uh…Sam collapsed with a bleeding nose."

The Aussie doctor did not look convinced, but still carried on anyway.

"I've never seen a young boy like him suffering hypertension this high. His BP was 120/240 when he arrived. Has he suffered any symptoms lately, such as dizziness, chest pain or blackouts?"

This time, Dean answered instead of his dad.

"Yes, he has. He passed out the day before yesterday during a basketball game and after that, he also had a massive migraine headache and fainted a couple of times." Dean was fidgeting nervously, remembering how Sam had ended up with a bleeding nose after those painful visions assaulted him. "And ahh… he's had this fever since the evening and when we were bringing him here, we umm…that was when we got mugged." Dean reasoned the whole bluff much more smoothly than his father.

Quirking an eyebrow, Dr. Chase nodded, albeit somehow doubtfully. He still could not believe the family of the boy one hundred percent. But could not deny the pure concern and fear that were showing in both of their eyes for the kid that had been treated in his care.

"And, what about the bullet wound?" The doctor blurted out all of a sudden, completely taking off guard the Winchester patriarch.

"Wh-what? Bullet wound?"

"You didn't know your son has a bullet wound in his right arm?" The doctor's eyes were all wide in suspicion.

"I…uh…I haven't been…" John did not have a slightest idea what the doctor was talking about_**. 'Bullet wound? Sam was shot? Oh my God…Sammy was…'**_

Dean was trying hard to find some suitable answer, but his mind came out empty. Even he did not have any idea how the hell Sam had gotten shot; so much had happened before he could even ask Sam about it.

Before Dean could say something, the smart doctor quipped.

"And, it seems he went to some clinic or hospital and cleaned the wound. The bandage seems fresh." Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, Dr. Chase nodded thoughtfully. "This seems to be a police case to me. We should…"

Dean's heartbeat skipped as he heard the doctor muttering about calling the cops. They could not afford it; they were hunters for God's sake and had done lots of illegal things that could lead to at least a couple of years in prison. He had to somehow convince the doctor who seemed confident and kind of arrogant, but not a heartless person.

"Look, doc, I'm not gonna lie to you but we didn't know about the bullet wound." His voice was quivering and honesty was shining in his eyes. "Sammy's been very sick since I found him unconscious at the school; you can call his school authority to check. He hasn't been able to tell us anything until now." Dean looked straight into the doctor's clear blue eyes and felt sure 'the guy wasn't a bad assed one'…he could read people. "Please Doc, we could find out later what happened to him, but right now, tell us is he going to be alright?"

Seeing the desperation and love for his little brother in the big brother's eyes, the doctor's heart softened. _**'Yeah, we could investigate that later'**_. Sighing aloud, Dr. Chase became all business, "Well, as I told you Sam's suffered a severe case of hypertension and that has caused the localized dilation of the blood vessels in his brain, which is called cerebral aneurysm. That's why he had been bleeding from his nose and mouth."

Dean's whole body was shaking after hearing the doctor's diagnosis and explanation about Sam's symptoms. If John hadn't been holding him upright, he would've crumpled to the floor.

"You…you're sa-saying Sammy's suffered a brain hemorrhage? John stuttered out, wrapping one arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Well, you can call it that, but thankfully it wasn't as severe as it could have been. Sam was somehow lucky that the blood vessels in his brain aren't ruptured. The swelling was small and that could be treated easily, and luckily surgery won't be needed in his case."

"Oh thank God." Sighing in relief, Dean rubbed a hand across his face. "So, he's gonna be alright?"

Doctor Chase fidgeted slightly, a hint of shadow flickered on his face.

"Umm…yes, he will be but I won't sugar-coat anything to you guys. You should know that Sam's a very sick young man and it's his high fever along with extremely high BP that is the main reason for concern. His fever was almost 105 when he arrived and he was having trouble breathing because of excessive nose bleeding. We have him on 100% oxygen and…"

Suddenly a high pitched alarm tone filled the almost empty hospital lobby and the doctor's pager also started beeping crazily. The young Doc had already whirled around and was sprinting rapidly towards the trauma room where Sam was currently being treated.

Dean and John were quick to follow, swiftly catching up to run alongside the doctor.

"What's…what's happening?" Dean asked in a frightened voice. Something went wrong, he could feel it.

"It's Sam. He's…"

* * *

**TBC

* * *

**

**Uh…oh…"Happy New Year" guys…and *runs away***

**And ooops… forgot to say, I don't own the cute Dr. Chase either :P**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N 1:-****Thanks****to my two wonderful beta-readers**_**'Vonnie'**_**and**_**'Jules'**_**. You're the best :)**

**A/N 2:-****I just want to say how much I've appreciated the reviews and private messages I've received. Thank you so much **hotshow, Ani101 , vonnie836, CeCe Away, CBloom2, Cainchan, skag trendy , cindy123 , cold kagome , Dragon Mistress Syal , Sparkiebunny , BranchSuper , Gabi2305 , supernaturalsammy67 , CosmicEssence , sammygirl1963 , epex , AliceAddams13, carocali and Ashe Raine .

* * *

**Power Surge**

* * *

"It's Sam, he's having a seizure."

The doctor burst into the trauma room with Dean and John running behind him and immediately moved towards the convulsing teen.

Sam was writhing on the confined hospital bed. His face had turned almost translucent and his eyes were partially open, but only whites were showing. A couple of nurses were holding his arms and legs tightly so he would not accidentally hurt himself. The oxygen mask that had been strapped to his face was dislodged; IV lines were almost ripped out of his hand.

The young doctor quickly re-attached the IV lines on Sam's hand as he was barking orders.

Dean was shell shocked seeing his baby brother's lithe body convulse helplessly on the hospital bed. He could see the doctor was saying something to someone but nothing seemed to be penetrating his already too congested brain. All he wanted to do was run and hold his brother in his arms as he had always done when Sammy was little. To Sam, Dean was a superhero who could do anything, could make his pain go away; could save him from anything bad. But now, he was feeling completely helpless for not knowing how to help his extremely sick and hurting brother. This was not something he could fix with a shotgun or a machete.

Dean watched with blurred vision while the nurse quickly injected something into one of the IV's and his brother's body gradually started to calm down. His face was now slack under the transparent mask and face tilted slightly towards their direction.

After what felt like a thousand hours, the nurses exited the room quietly, leaving only the Winchesters and the doctor.

Without wasting another moment, Dean literally rushed to his brother's side and immediately picked Sam's limp warm hand into his. If possible, Sam's face has gone two more shades paler, and his features were somewhat pinched even in his drugged unconscious state.

"What… what'd just happened?" Dean heard his father question the doctor with a quivering tone.

Sighing, Dr. Chase noted something on the chart and put the clipboard into the rack of Sam's bed.

"Well, what young Sam has just suffered is basically known as partial seizure. It's generally caused by severe head injury or intracranial trauma."

"What?" Dean swallowed nervously. "But Sam didn't hit his head, well recently."

"Yeah, but this kinda' seizure always doesn't happen due to surface injury. Sometimes, very high blood pressure can cause this type of seizure." Dr. Chase pointed at some numbers on the monitor screen behind Sam's head. "See, Sam's intracranial pressure as in blood pressure is hovering around 180/110 which is quite worrisome for a young kid like him."

"So you're saying his increasing BP's causing this seizure and nose bleed?" John asked, trying hard to remain calm in this situation_**. 'C'mon Sammy, don't do this to us. Don't let this BP crap get you.'**_

"Basically yes, and not to mention that his high fever's the icing on the cake." Dr. Chase now sounded a little tired and irritated. "Just how long has he been sick by the way? Has he been taking any medication for his BP?"

Taking a deep breath, John calmed himself down and tried not to hit the young doc's arrogant mug. He'd been pissing them off since they met. Seeing Dean also getting agitated, he put a warning hand on his shoulder to prevent the young man from doing something wrong like clocking the doctor in the mouth.

"I told you…"

Before Dean could finish, the doctor quipped again.

"Yeah, I know you didn't realize that he was sick." Dr. Chase stated obnoxiously. "But then again, let me remind you this is not something that happens within a day or two. This kinda condition takes time to develop." He sighed. "He should've been treated earlier than this. I'm genuinely concerned about his BP. This kinda thing can…"

Getting the hint that the little pause meant something serious, Dean asked nervously, "…can what?" His voice was quivering.

The doctor might sound rough around the edges, but the Winchesters could see he was a kind-hearted man. It was clearly shown in his face that he was worried for his young patient and that was what was making him sound like an idjit.

"Can lead to a stroke or a brain hemorrhage."

"Oh no, Sammy." Dean felt like his whole world came crashing down in front of him**. **_**'This could not be happening. Sammy can't have this freaky Intra-whatever-pressure in his huge-like-Texas brain.'**_He blinked furiously, trying to keep his tears at bay. "He's just turned eighteen yesterday. How could he…?" He trailed off into an incoherent mutter, grabbed one of his baby brother's fever-hot hands tightly between his own and pressed it to his cheek.

"But he's gonna be alright, right?" John asked in a deep congested voice.

"Apparently, he is. We're giving him some ACE inhibitors through his IV which will slow down his rising BP to a relatively normal level and this other IV's providing his antibiotics for his fever. Although his stats are kinda low, if he gets his treatment properly, he'll pull through without any glitch."

"That's good." Dean began feeling somewhat relieved after hearing that proper treatment and care would make his brother healthy and fit like he used to be. "Ya hear that Sammy, your wired system just needs some happy juice and then you'll be up and around in no time. After that we'll be having a serious discussion about how to kick yer ass for hiding something this serious from us. So, get better already, would'ja?"

Smiling softly, Dr. Chase moved towards the door. Before he went out, he turned back and told them, "You can stay with him if you want." Although he had gotten the idea the protective family of Sam Scofield wouldn't budge from the side of his patient but still he went on, "Press the call button if he wakes up or feels any distress. I'll check him again after an hour or so." With that he closed the private room's door and went off to the other side of the corridor.

* * *

Logan was pacing restlessly in the confined space of his hidden room. His face was a mask of anger and frustration. He still could not believe what he had seen last night. John's youngest son was one of them? How could he hide something this serious for such a long time?

"Damn it, he was in front of me and I couldn't even detect that little bastard." Stopping his aimless pacing for a moment, he glanced at the psychic kids who were held prisoner and gritted his teeth in utter resentment. "Damn kid, I'm gonna peal his skin off his tainted body. He's gonna…"

His tirade cut off as a shrill of his cell phone interrupted. Cursing again, he pulled the offending object from his pocket roughly and almost barked.

"What! Better be good news Brad otherwise you're so gonna be screwed."

'_I found him. He's in St. Patrick hospital.'_

"Did you get his medical file?"

'_Uh…yes.__'_

"And, what's the verdict?"

'_Umm, he's suffering from severe intracranial trauma and fever.__'_

"Good. What medication are they giving him?"

'_Enalapril.' _

"OD it."

'_What? But…'_

"No buts," Logan snapped on the phone. "Increase the dose of that damn drug but make sure he won't die. I want him to suffer and then I will kill him with my own hands."

'_Logan, are you su…'_

"Damn it Brad, just f****** DO IT."

'_Alright. I'll keep you updated.'_

"Just don't get yourself caught. Those Winchesters are way too clever. Keep your ass safe from their clutches."

'_Okay. Over and out.'_

And then, the line went dead. Logan threw the device onto the nearest tabletop and smirked devilishly.

"Now now, Sammy Winchester 'The Super Boy', you're gonna suffer so much that you'll wish to die." Chugging some raw whiskey in a few gulps, he grimaced as it burned his throat, "…then I'm gonna to fulfill your bloody wish, you son of a bitch."

* * *

Brad snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his scrubs pocket. He looked at the male nurse who was now sprawled on the storeroom's floor, unconscious, tied up and only in his boxers.

Tucking Sam's medical file beneath his armpit, Brad, dressed as a male nurse headed smartly towards the drug store area.

* * *

Dean was reading a magazine while sitting on an uncomfortable chair beside Sam's bed. John had gone to the motel to clean up a bit and fetch some dinner for them. They had not had a single bite of food since last night. And this morning, Sam's fever had spiked a little and he was having a major headache after he woke up. The nurse had injected some medicine into Sam's IV, and after that he drifted off again. Dean tried to ask him how he was doing, but, his mind addled with drugs and pain, Sam didn't seem too coherent and almost immediately sunk further into a deep sleep, leaving his brother alone again.

The doctor had removed the oxygen mask and put a nasal canula under his nose. Sam's blood pressure level had dropped down some and was now hovering at around 150/100. The last medicine the nurse had injected was about three hours ago and Sam hadn't woken up since.

The doctor had told them that Sam was doing better and he could go home tomorrow. Dean was thankful that Sam had not suffered much from the last power assault. The way his baby brother had killed those ghouls and saved their asses with his mind power, was beyond belief. Sammy had looked so pale and corpse-like while they were driving him to the hospital. Dean was so afraid he was going to lose his little brother.

Dean shook his head dismissively as the negative thoughts haunted him. Throwing the unread book aside, he rubbed his tired face with both hands.

"Oh Sammy, what could have been?"

But something wasn't right. They were sure missing something. Dean could not grab the fact that had been bothering him since Sam was admitted. But something…

His musings cut off as someone entered the room. Dean saw it was the nurse again; holding a loaded syringe in his hand he headed towards Sam's bed.

'_Something wasn't right.'_ Dean's hunter mind was alerting him.

"Didn't you just give Sam the meds a few hours back?"

The nurse seemed startled a bit, but quickly straightened.

"Uh yeah, umm… he needs another dose."

"Wait but…" Before Dean could finish his sentence, Sam picked that moment to wake up from his slumber.

"Uhhh…Deaan!" He groaned as he blinked his eyes open.

"Heya Sammy, how're you feeling bro?"

"Uhhhhh…tired. Whas'… ow…" Feeling a little pinch as the IV roller moved to adjust the drip he turned his face towards the nurse.

The nurse jerked visibly as Sam's eyes met his. Detaching the needle from the IV bag, he quickly headed towards the exit.

Everything was blurry in Sam's vision when he woke up from his sleep. He didn't know what had caused him to wake, must be the thirst, pain or whatever was making him feel like crap. He was feeling completely drained and bone-weary, and he needed his big brother.

And apparently, Dean was there; soothing him, asking how he was feeling. Before he could utter a coherent word, Sam felt a light pinch on his left hand and moved his head towards the source of the pain. His vision was much clearer this time and he saw a rather familiar face looking back at him.

'_**Wait, I know him. Where **__**have I seen him before?' **_

Sam was thinking quickly, and the startled look of the man's face was making him more suspicious.

When Sam looked at the nurse's eyes, his own eyes grew larger as he recognized the brutal orbs of the marksman who'd tried to kill Andy and shot him. Sam started to hyperventilate as bad memories flooded his senses. The man's face had been hidden behind a black mask then, but now Sam could see him clearly.

The man sensed that Sam recognized him, so he tried to escape before the boy could speak and identify him, but Sam croaked out weakly, "Dean, that man….he… he…"

Dean leapt from his seat, seeing his brother's face turn almost grey as he started to hyperventilate. He grabbed Sam's arms and quickly asked, "What is it, Sammy? What's wrong?"

Panting harshly, Sam somehow blurted the words from his dry throat.

"He shot me."

* * *

Rage flooded Dean's veins as his brother informed him that nurse or the man who had been faking to be a damn nurse had shot Sam; he ran furiously, following the convict towards the hospital exit.

"I'm gonna kill you, you bastard," Dean growled behind the fleeing man who had been knocking the nurses and doctors out of the way to get clear.

Dean ran like a madman and the distance between them was getting closer, but then, the convict pulled an empty gurney from the side of the corridor and shoved it between him and Dean to hamper his forward motion.

But nothing could stop Dean Winchester when he was determined to catch the person who had tried to kill his baby brother. He swiftly jumped over the gurney and kept following the killer. As he was about to catch the man, the killer pulled a gun from his waistband and grabbed a nurse by her throat.

"Come any closer and I'll blow her head off," He threatened the furious young hunter before him.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as the killer held the girl as hostage. Clenching his teeth he growled, "Let her go."

"I will, only when you step back!" The man shouted.

Dean looked around and saw how many innocent people had gathered around to see the commotion. If he tried to catch the bastard, he would probably start shooting and people would die. Dean could not do that. Reluctantly, he backed off, but remained tense and ready, waiting for the man to step outside the hospital territory. Then, the hunter promised himself, the killer would be dead meat.

Seeing Dean Winchester backing off, Brad dragged the defenseless nurse backwards with him until he crossed the emergency exit; threatening the armed hospital guards too.

Reaching his car, Brad shoved the girl out of his way and quickly climbed into the vehicle. Dean quickly followed him but slammed to halt as he heard an alarm started to beep all over the hospital with an emergency announcement-

"**Code Blue in room ****346, Code Blue in room 346!"**

Dean's heart dropped to his stomach as he heard the announcement. "Oh God, it's Sammy's room. Oh my God." Quickly turning on his heel, he frantically ran towards the room where his little brother was currently fighting for his life.

Flipping his cell phone on, Dean dialed John's number as he kept running up the staircase. Before John could even say anything, he cried, "Dad, come quickly. It's Sam."

* * *

Another agonizing waiting room, they had been in for at least forty minutes.

Dean had been a complete mess after he heard Sam's heart had had some complication and he'd coded. He felt faint when he watched the doctors press a couple of defibrillators on Sam's tender chest and his brother's lithe body arch up on the tiny hospital bed. He had almost sprinted across the room, before he was led out by a couple of nurses telling him it would be better if he did not interrupt and let the doctors do their work on Sam.

John had returned to the hospital room within ten minutes after Dean called. He still could not believe what had just happened. Sometime earlier, his youngest son was doing fine and was about to go home the next day, and now he was being shocked by some damn paddles because of a cardiac arrest.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

John growled as he remembered what Dean told him about overdosing his baby boy. Why would someone want to hurt his baby son who had done nothing wrong in his whole life? He was only eighteen for God's sake, why would someone want to do something this horrible to someone as innocent as Sam? Overdosing his baby with some horrible drug that had led him to a cardiac arrest.

"No no no no no, this can't be happening."

John didn't remember when he had started rambling. He startled when Dean spoke in a tired, worn out voice.

"It was my fault. I should've stopped him before he injected that damn thing into Sam's IV."

Sighing, John sat next to Dean and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. How could have you known that he was a fake nurse?"

"NO." Dean cried hoarsely and shot to his feet. "You don't understand. My gut was telling me that the nurse was bad news, but I didn't listen. I let him screw with Sam's medication Dad! I "The pathetic Dean Winchester" failed my baby brother once again." Fisting his palm tightly, Dean bit his lips as they started to tremble. "Sammy…" his knees felt weak as he dropped onto them and cried miserably.

"Oh no, Dean." John quickly knelt beside his firstborn and hugged him closer. He could feel what Dean had been feeling. Sammy was his world; everything that happened to Sam, Dean took it as if it was his own fault. Sammy was his, and he could never let his baby brother down.

"It's okay Dean. Sammy's gonna be alright. He's a Winchester and strongest among us, right?" As Dean kept his head bowed without answering, John shook him lightly, "Right?"

Nodding unsurely, Dean answered in a low broken voice. "Yeah!"

"That's mah' boy." Smiling sadly, John pushed Dean to a standing position and led him to a nearby chair. But before they could take a seat, the door of Sam's room opened and a very haggard looking Dr. Chase came out.

"How's Sammy?" Both Winchesters asked in unison.

"Well, he's stable now. We'd been able to counteract the immediate action of the drug and given him some medication to detoxify the effect." Running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, the young doctor continued. "It's been touch and go for a while and he went into an arrhythmic cardiac arrest which slowed his heart rate down to a dangerous level. We had to shock him twice to bring his heart back to a regular rhythm."

Both Winchesters stood still, not knowing what to say after hearing such horrible news about the baby of their family.

"B…but, he's gonna be okay, right?" John somehow managed to ask.

Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, Dr. Chase nodded. "He's a strong young man and it was caught early enough. Although he was given twice the amount, which is pretty serious by the way but still, we've been able to remove the excess drug out of his blood using a dialysis procedure."

Dean was fidgeting now. He nervously asked, "But you didn't answer the question. He's gonna be okay, right?"

Nodding positively, the doctor spoke again.

"He will be, but let me tell you his condition's very fragile right now. We're gonna closely monitor him from now on. Thankfully we didn't have to intubate him which is good news and we have him again on 100% oxygen."

"Can we see him?"

"He's unconscious right now but you can sit with him."

"Thanks Doc." Both Winchesters wanted to be with their youngest without wasting any more precious second, but halted when Dr. Chase called again.

"Ah, Mr. Scofield?"

"Yeah?"

"We have informed the cops and they will be here at any moment to talk to you."

"Cops?" John and Dean looked at each other worriedly.

"Yes, this was an assault on a patient by some fugitive and he even threatened one of our stuff. This is obviously a police case and since he tried to kill your son, so you guys are also involved in this. There must be some solid reason behind why he wanted to kill someone like Sam?" Frowning curiously, the young doctor continued. "And Sam was also admitted with a bullet wound in his arm."

"Uh okay," John replied hesitantly. "Call us when they're here."

Without wasting any more time, John grabbed Dean's arm and quickly strode towards Sam's room, leaving the doctor in the almost empty corridor.

* * *

"What're we gonna do now, Dad?" Dean asked nervously, never removing his eyes from Sam's pale unconscious face.

Pacing like a caged tiger, John chewed his fingernail as he tried to figure something out. Facing the cops wasn't an option, he had to avoid it no matter what. Any contact with the cops over the current situation meant his boys' lives were gonna be screwed even more than they already were. And besides, with the bullet wound and assault, Sam's life was again in danger; something the cops wouldn't be able to protect him from. John had to save his boys from this situation.

"Okay," Glancing at his watch, John noticed it was around 8 p.m. and the whole hospital building had become quite empty. Doctors and nurses were worried about the incident that had happened barely an hour ago. The police were already there and interviewing eyewitnesses. They had already confiscated the exit areas and ordered everyone to stay put.

"Okay, Dean. We gotta get Sam outta the hospital right now. But we need something to keep him comfortable."

"But Dad, look at him." Dean was shocked at his father's decision. "Sam's freaking unconscious and needs those damn things to keep him stable. How could you even…"

"Don't argue with me Dean, not right now." John snapped, sounding frustrated and tense. "Do what I tell you."

"But.."

"There's no time for buts, Dean. You know I wouldn't jeopardize Sammy's health for anything. This is for good, trust me."

Knowing his dad won't do anything that would make his brother suffer; Dean nodded at what John told him to do and stealthily left the room.

* * *

After Dean went out, John quickly adjusted Sam's heart monitor switches so it would beep after the patient was de-attached from the cords. Joshua had once taught him this trick and now it came in handy for him.

Unhooking Sam from the IV lines and oxygen mask, he gently ran his hand through his boy's soft hair and murmured, "Don't worry Sammy, I'm gonna take care of you. You just hang in there, alright buddy!"

Pulling a wheelchair from the corner of the corridor, John carefully lifted his youngest son and put him onto the chair. Sam's head was hanging low and his long chestnut hair was half-obscuring his face. John had it done within a couple of minutes; now all he had to do was wait for Dean to do his part.

* * *

Seeing the handsome man staggering like a drunk towards the nurse's station, one of the nurses asked in concern, "Oh my God, are you okay?"

Dean swayed as if he was going to fall down, but stammered out somehow.

"I think my blood sugar level's low. I…I haven't eaten since…ahhh…" Feigning a collapse, he let his leg buckle as his eyes started to roll up into his head.

"Oh no, Cathy, grab the candy bar from my desk. This young man needs something sweet right now." One of the nurses ordered as she and others began to tend to the handsome young man.

"Who is this, by the way?" Dean heard one of them asked.

"He's the brother of the patient from room 346. Poor boy was worried as hell for his brother." Someone said sympathetically.

Fluttering his eyes half open, Dean spotted his Dad pushing Sam out of the room in a wheelchair. He was heading opposite of the nurse's station as almost every nurse available in the area was looking after Dean and others were doing their work so they couldn't have noticed this little escape. As Dean watched John and Sam disappear into the elevator, he groaned and blinked his eyes fully open.

"Hey, you okay?" A pretty nursed asked and he showed them his most charming smile.

"Yeah, I'm good." Dean answered in a low husky voice which had melted nurse's fragile hearts.

Taking a slow bite of the offered chocolate bar, Dean smiled gratefully at the nurses and started to talk carefully.

"I need to get some real food into me. I'm starving." Seeing the understanding looks at their eyes, he continued. "I need to go to the cafeteria."

The nurses looked at each other, not sure what to do. The one who'd handed him the candy chewed her bottom lip and nervously informed him, "But the police have sealed the exits, I'm not sure if they would allow you to go outside."

"But you know me. It was my brother who the freak wanted to hurt." Using his version of puppy dog eyes to the women who were already starting to have a meltdown, Dean sensed a victory, jutted his lower lip out a little and spoke again. "I just wanna be strong for my baby brother. I'll only take ten minutes, tops. Please."

"Okay, ten minutes, deal!"

After Dean nodded happily, the nurse got up and asked Dean to follow her.

"Deal!" Showing her one of his most charming smiles, Dean followed her down the stairs, mentally calculating what his next major step would be.

* * *

John spared a quick glance at Dean who was now feigning a swoon and quickly pushed Sam's wheelchair towards the elevator. Pressing the button a couple of times, he waited impatiently. Time was running through his hands and he had to get Sam out safely from the hospital area.

He sighed in relief as the elevator door opened; thankfully it was empty, Winchester luck had shown mercy on them this time. Pushing the wheelchair into the small room, he pressed the first floor button.

Clamping a gentle hand on Sam's flaccid shoulder, John squeezed it reassuringly as he mumbled. "Its gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna make sure that you're oaky." He was reassuring himself more than his insensate boy who was sitting limply in the wheelchair.

As the elevator doors opened, John was taken aback as a doctor entered and almost instantly, the man's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Who're you? Where're you taking him…aagh…" Before he could finish his sentence off, a solid fist hit the center of the poor doctor's mouth and he slumped boneless against the closed elevator door; unconscious.

"I'm sorry." John murmured a quick apology to the fallen doctor and stripped the white lab coat off his body. "I might need this one." Carefully pushing the wheelchair out of the elevator, he pushed the close button, making sure the doctor was trapped inside the elevator. John maintained a quick but measured pace towards the emergency exit. Mistaking him for a real doctor wheeling his patient off somewhere, some other staff might have noticed him but did not care about what he was up to. John was thankful to whoever was watching out for them, at least for now.

Almost running down the vacant corridor, John came to a halt before a short flight of stairs leading to the exit. The door was closed and John could see a head moving back and forth through the glass panel.

Setting his mind for his next action, John quickly picked Sam up from the chair and carried him down the stairs. When he reached the closed door, he put Sam's body onto the floor, whispering soft words to his unaware son.

"Okay, Sammy. Dad's gonna leave you for a second so he can take care of that security guard."

Next, John knocked on the closed door to get the guard's attention.

Frowning, the man turned around and saw a doctor standing behind the closed door, gesturing for the barrier to be opened. He nodded, and unlocked the door…

With lightning speed, John grabbed the guard's weapon and pulled it towards him; hitting the man's face with the butt, instantly knocking him unconscious.

Grinning in victory, John quickly turned around lifted Sam off the ground where he had left him. But as he crossed the threshold, someone called from the side.

"Don't move."

John's heartbeat almost stopped when he realized there could be more than one security guard at the exit area and now he was royally screwed. He hadn't prepared for this and he could do nothing with Sammy in his arms.

Slowly turning around, John saw the guard aiming his gun at him.

"Okay listen, I…"

"Shut up. Put him down and get on your knees. I'm calling the cops." He threatened John.

"Alright, alright. Don't shoot."

John almost put Sam down onto the asphalt; then he saw a cop was running towards them.

"Hey hey, what's going on?" The cop asked, holding his own gun up.

"Officer, this man was trying to escape with a patient. And he hit one of our guards, too," The security guard informed the cop.

"Okay, alright!" Looking straight into John's eyes, the cop moved closer to the armed guard and shouted, "You're under arrest mister."

Before the security guard could take any further action, the cop slugged him in the head with the butt of his revolver and knocked him down instantly.

Grinning mischievously, the cop winked at an amused John and told him, "Car's over there. Area's cleared, this way."

"Good job, Dean! I'm impressed," John told him with a grateful voice as he followed his firstborn swiftly around to the rear of the hospital.

"I'm the master." Dean, dressed as a cop, answered with a satisfied grin, but startled as a warning alarm began to wail through the hospital.

"They must have found the Doc in the elevator or found Sam's room empty," John muttered as they reached the Impala.

Dean was already settled in the back seat, reaching out to gather Sam safely into his arms. They could hear the whistles and barking of police dogs as the authorities went on high alert. Without sparing another moment, John climbed in the driver's seat, revved the engine and sped towards the road before anyone could suspect him.

* * *

_**40 minutes later:-**_

John was driving in silence, heading towards the town of Howard. It was nearly touch and go with their great escape; John shuddered at the memory. _**'What could have been?' **_Sighing, he glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Dean was still holding his brother to his chest. Sam's face was horribly pale under the portable oxygen mask that Dean had borrowed from one of the parked ambulances with no guarantee of it being returned.

"What happened to you, Dean? Did the cops get you?" John asked while driving along the lonely highway.

"Yeah, almost." Dean sighed loudly, and rubbed one hand over his sibling's head.

"What did you do?" John asked, despite already knowing what Dean would do in this kind of situation.

"I…uhh… knocked him out and stuffed him into an ambulance." Smirking tiredly, Dean continued. "And then I swiped this mask, thinking Sammy might need some additional help." His voice faltered as he gazed down at his sick little brother.

"How's he doing?"

"Not good, Dad!" Dean sounded so exhausted. Poor boy had not had any time to relax since Sam's graduation party. His body was craving rest, but he was still holding on for the sake of his baby brother.

"We're almost there, Dean. He's waiting for us."

Dean didn't have the energy to ask who had been waiting for them and where. He just wanted to get Sammy some much needed help and himself to collapse and sleep for at least a week.

"'Kay." That was the only word he uttered before burying his face into Sam's wavy chestnut hair.

* * *

They were standing in front of a bungalow which was surrounded by a huge garden. But Dean had noticed there were some protection symbols on the garden gate and salt lines at the threshold.

'_**A hunter's nook**__**, huh!'**_ Dean absently thought as he looked towards his father who was cradling Sam's pliant body and waiting for the door to be opened.

Dean snorted disbelievingly as the closed circuit camera turned towards him, but startled when the door suddenly opened.

A man in his sixties was standing in front of them. He had a messy white beard and thinning white hair which was barely covering his almost bald head. Seeing John as he had been expecting, he gave a very broad, weird smile and welcomed his guests.

"Johnny Winchester, come in. I've been waiting for you."

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

_**More to come soon.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N:- I know it took me forever to update but I won't bore you guys with boring stories of my hectic life. I thought I could never finish this story, but some of my friends really encouraged me (kicked my rear) and here it is. I doubt there's anyone left to read it and I'm sure everyone's forgotten about this story, but still felt I should post it. Again, I'm very sorry for the delay and won't be surprised if this chapter doesn't get any response. _

_A/N:- Thanks to my two awesome betas Vonnie and Jules, without them… Uggh… I don't wanna think about it._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

"Johnny Winchester, come in. I've been waiting for you." The old doctor greeted the Winchesters warmly. It was clear he had known John for a long time. His smile faltered as his eyes landed on the limp form cradled in John's chest.

"Holy mother of Jesus, is that your son?"

John fervently nodded. "Yes, he's my youngest son, Sam. Help him, Dr. Robert, he's not breathing well."

Placing a comforting hand against John's back, Dr. Robert guided him inside the house. "Come on, this way." The old doctor walked towards a room and opened the door, motioning for John to enter.

The room looked like a miniature hospital room. There was a bed in the middle and a heart monitor by its side, as well as a couple of IV poles and other medical equipment.

"Put him down on the bed, John."

John carefully laid his insensate son onto the bed and adjusted his pillow so he could rest comfortably. After Sam was settled, Dean immediately took his usual place beside Sam's bed, taking his brother's hand into his.

Dr. Robert was doing his ministration silently. After taking Sam's vitals, he bound a blood pressure cuff around his patient's uninjured left bicep. Fastening an oxygen mask over Sam's face to aid his breathing, he inserted an IV line into Sam's hand and attached a bag of normal saline to it to keep him hydrated.

"Did you bring his medical file?" He asked nobody in particular.

Dean nodded and handed him his brother's medical file, which he had swiped from the hospital prior to the great escape.

Taking the file gratefully, the doctor thoroughly scanned the details. Raising an eyebrow, he waved to a woman, who seemed to be a nurse but was wearing casual dress and gave her some instruction. Dean watched cautiously as the woman left the room. She returned after a couple of minutes, carrying another IV bag containing a yellow liquid and hung it on the pole after not so carefully connecting it to the IV line already in Sam's hand.

Dean did not like it. It was not a hospital; the doctor seemed mad with his loose attire, unkempt hair and weird beard. And the nurse - there was a constant frown on her forehead as if she didn't like anything at all. But seeing Sam was now resting a little easier after being given the medication, he sighed and kept his mouth shut.

"All done. He's got what he needs most right now." The old doctor straightened up after fixing the heart monitor carefully, and waved at John. "C'mon Pals, you both look like you could use some food right now."

"I'm not hungry," Dean announced without wasting a second and John rolled his eyes. He was proud of his oldest son, the way he took care of his little brother, beyond imagination. But he needed something to eat, so John tried to change his mind. "Dean, son, you have to eat something…"

"I'm not leaving Sammy," He growled.

Sighing, John placed a comforting hand on his firstborn's shoulder and squeezed affectionately. He knew Dean needed some time alone with his brother. After all the drama they'd been through during the course of the day, Dean needed to know personally that his baby brother was doing alright.

"It's okay, Dean. I'll bring the dinner in here so you can eat and watch out for Sammy at the same time, alright."

Dean nodded half-heartedly, knowing his father was right. He needed to eat something otherwise he would keel over for sure.

After their Dad and the other people left the room, Dean finally had some time alone with his brother. He leaned a little closer to Sam's face and watched him carefully. Sam's breathing was a little shallow and his face was flushed with fever. He still was not well…

Dean's bottom lip quivered as the overwhelming emotion threatened to shatter his macho mask. Running a trembling hand through Sam's hair, he sniffed miserably as he remembered how close he had come to losing his little brother. That bastard had almost killed him… Shaking his head at that unpleasant memory, Dean took Sam's hot limp hand into his and held it to his right cheek. He did not want to cry; no… he was not going to cry.

"Sammy!" The tears fell anyway. "Why does all the bad crap happen to you, little brother?" Choking back on a sob, Dean put his hand on Sam's blanket-covered chest. "I always try to protect you, but never really keep you safe."

Sam's hand twitched a little in Dean's, as his head rolled towards his big brother's voice.

"Sammy, you waking up, brother?" Dean's hope flared upon seeing his brother moving even a little. But much to his dismay, nothing other than that slight motion happened.

Sighing, Dean put Sam's hand back beneath the blanket and whispered. "Ya keep fightin' Sammy, I'll be here when you wake up." Placing a comforting hand on his brother's chest, Dean lowered his head onto Sam's bed and was already asleep before his head hit the mattress.

* * *

Placing a hot mug of black coffee in front of John Winchester, Dr. Robert sat on a chair and eyed him suspiciously.

John looked like a refugee with his mud-soaked jeans and dirty, crumpled, old ratty flannel shirt. His face was pinched and drawn with worry and fear. Yes, for the first time he saw the fear on John Winchester's face.

"So, what exactly happened with you chuckleheads now, Johnny? Why did you have to escape the hospital in such a hurry with a patient in as serious a condition as your son?"

Sighing, John took a sip of the hot brew.

"I told you, someone had overdosed Sam's medication. They called the cops; I'm already on the FBI's radar and if they caught us…" sighing John continued. "Sammy wasn't safe there. What if the bastard tries to kill him again when we're not around? We can't keep an eye on him 24/7 in a frigging hospital."

"Why would some random killer want to kill an eighteen year old school boy?" The old doctor asked.

"I wish I had any idea, doc."

Nodding a little, the doctor got up and picked a newspaper from the nearest table. Opening it to a certain page, he pointed his forefinger at the picture of a young girl.

"Did you see this news? This girl disappeared almost two weeks ago and hasn't been found. Not only this; but a couple of young boys and girls have also disappeared within the last two months. And all of them are in their late teens, same age as Sam." Furrowing his brow, the experienced doctor-cum-hunter asked quizzically, "Do you think there is some connection between these disappearances or abductions - whatever they are, and Sam's near death case?"

John hung his head low as Missouri's words flooded through his brain.

'_**Sammy's got some special powers in him. When he turns eighteen and becomes an adult, his power will start developing.'**_

John's breathing sped up as he once again remembered the warning.

'_**He is so vulnerable right now, and wolves are there outside waiting for him. Just call me if things get worse.'**_

"John, you alright?" Dr. Robert asked worriedly when John didn't answer his question.

Frustration making John's head ache, he realized he didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he had to save his baby boy but he didn't have a clue as to how.

"I gotta make a call, excuse me." Abruptly, he got up and went outside, leaving his dumbfounded friend behind.

Flipping the phone's lid open, John pressed the speed dial and waited for the person to receive his call.

"Singer speaking."

"Bobby, its John. You gotta help me."

"John, what happened? Are the boys alright?"

"No Bobby, its Sam."

* * *

"God damn it."

Logan was furious. Sam Winchester had once again gotten away and this time, it was a close call. Brad had almost got caught by Dean Winchester.

"I gave you one…" Logan slammed the other hunter into the wall hard and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. "…one simple task – to overdose an unconscious kid, but you had to screw it up too." He screamed against Brad's ear.

Brad flinched as Logan shouted and slammed him again just as hard.

"How… how could I know that the little prick would wake up and recognize me? He was sleeping when I went into his room but…"

"That little son of a…" Logan released the other hunter and began to pace around the small dingy room. "He's one slippery son of a bitch. Every time I try to catch him, he gets away." He was muttering to himself. "He was only a couple of inches away in that school and I didn't even recognize him." Stopping his pacing in midstride, he glanced at his partner in crime. "And he is John freaking Winchester's son. It's gonna be hard to catch him now. I know John. He must have blocked every connection we had. I can't even locate where they are right now. He's very good at hiding. God damn it."

"What're we gonna do now?" Brad asked nervously.

Gritting his teeth, Logan started to pace without answering the question. Suddenly his gaze fell onto the bound kids sitting close to each other in the corner; faces shockingly pale and tear tracks dried onto their gaunt cheeks. They looked filthy.

The kids whimpered and tried to ease back as Logan advanced towards them. Smirking at those bewildered teenagers, the cruel hunter crouched down and ran a finger down the tear-stained cheek of a thin boy.

"What are you thinking, Logan?" Brad asked worriedly. His friend was likely to do anything and he really didn't want any of those kids killed.

"If we don't get to him, he will come to us." Logan smiled devilishly.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me." Logan grabbed the poor boy's jaw hard, making him whimper in pain before continuing. "That boy's a hunter. One thing he won't let happen…" he pressed hard and Brad winced at the scene, "…is getting one of these kids killed."

Brad was shocked speechless.

"Why are you standing there like a dumbass?"

Logan's irritated tone broke his trance and he flinched.

"How are we going to lure him out? We can't even track his cell phone. John already got that covered."

Shoving the trembling boy against the wall, Logan got up and turned towards Brad.

"We can't but I know who can do this."

"Who?"

Not answering the asked question, Logan pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and started scouring through the phonebook.

"Whom are you calling?"

"Roadhouse."

Brad's eyes widened. _**'Has he gone mad?'**_

"Roadhouse? But you do know that Ben and Ellen Harvelle are good friends of John Winchester, right?"

Logan scowled in irritation. "I don't give a rat's ass about the Harvelles. I need the weird geek boy whatever the hell his name is who works in their bar."

Something clicked on Brad's mind.

"Oh, you mean Ash?"

"Yes, him. I want you to meet with him and get as much information about Sam Winchester from him as you can."

"But, why will he give any information about Sam?" Brad was confused as he knew how much the Harvelles admired the Winchesters.

Thrusting a piece of paper into the other man's hand, Logan smirked devilishly. "One bottle of Jack Daniels and he'll be kissing your toes. Harvelles don't have to know about that, you make sure of that alright."

"I get it."

Once Brad was out of sight, Logan took a long swig of the whiskey and slammed the almost empty bottle onto the table. He let out a short drunken laugh as he waited for his ultimate bait…

"Sam Winchester, I'm going to get you soon."

* * *

Dean was hovering between sleep and wakefulness, when he felt some movement in the bed. Sam was stirring and coughing a little. The sound of his distress woke Dean completely from his fitful slumber and he instantly leaned over his little brother who was blinking slowly at him and whose coughing seemed to have dissipated.

"Sammy! Oh thank God!" Dean sounded husky with relief. "How are you feeling, man?"

"Like cr'p." Sam croaked and tried to sit up onto the bed, wincing as the flare of pain shot up to his still healing hand.

"Easy there bro, you're not 100% yet." Sighing in relief Dean helped his still weak brother sit upright.

"What happn'd?" Sam hoarsely asked, although a little confused.

"What's the last thing you remember, Sam?" Dean's voice sounded serious as he handed his brother a glass of water.

Swallowing some of the liquid, Sam handed the half empty glass to his brother and leaned against the pillow.

"Ummm… I was at the school hall…umm I had this intense headache…" Sam winced as if thinking seemed to be hurting his already fragile head.

Dean frowned at his brother's lack of memory. He did not know if he should be happy or worried. That wasn't the only thing Sam should remember… and he didn't know if it would be wise to help Sam recall the part where he had…well almost…

"Dean, what are you hiding from me?" Sam knew something was wrong by Dean's intense frown and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck. Dean only did that when something was really, really wrong. And by the way where were they, he wondered. He had never been in this house before, and it certainly wasn't the motel where they used to live.

"Where the hell are we, Dean! And what's with this IV and stuff?" Sam seemed to grow more agitated as he noticed the IV line protruding from his left hand and the other medical equipment around the small non-hospital room. His breathing sped up a little as the memories suddenly flooded through his brain and his body started to tremble violently.

"Oh no no no….Dad no nono Dean I'm sorry Dean…Dad…oh my God Dad…" Sam shot up off the bed and grabbed his head with both hands as he mumbled incoherently and cried constantly for Dad. The IV line ripped out of his hand and blood started to trickle from the small cut.

Dean instantly pulled his severely distressed brother into his embrace and tried to calm him down.

"Shh it's okay Sammy. Dad's fine. You're okay Sammy, calm down." Rubbing his brother's back Dean continued to soothe him but nothing seemed to be working on his distressed brother.

Dean was about to call the doctor, when the door suddenly opened and John came running towards them.

"Dean, what happened?" John asked worriedly when he saw his youngest crying and trembling miserably.

"I don't know Dad; he was okay when he woke up. But then suddenly he freaked out and started calling for you." Swallowing convulsively, Dean looked at his father. "I think he still thinks you're…you're…"

"Aww Sammy." John sighed as realization hit him. He knew what had happened. His baby boy still thought he was dead.

Perching on the bed, John smoothly drew a disoriented Sam from a reluctant Dean and cradled him. Placing his youngest son's head on his shoulder, John rubbed his hand as he continued to talk to him.

"Sammy, I'm here Sammy." Patting his boy's cheek lightly, John wiped away a stray tear from Sam's pale face. "Look at me kiddo, I'm okay. I'm here with you and Dean, boy. Open your eyes for me Sammy! Sam!"

Hearing his father's voice, Sam calmed downed a little and he blinked tiredly at his Dad.

"D-Dad?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Running his left hand though Sam's silky hair, John spoke again, "I'm here Sammy. I'm here."

"I hurt Dean, Dad. I hurt you…" Sam mumbled as a fresh bout of tears spilled from his already red and puffy eyes.

"No Sammy. You didn't. You didn't hurt us, Sammy, you saved us," John assured his distressed baby boy.

Sighing, Dean got up and sat on the bed behind his brother who was currently slumped against his father's chest, and wrapped his arms around the boy. _**'Damn chick flick moment. Sammy needs this right now'**_ He softly whispered in his brother's ears. "We're here Sammy, for you we're here. You saved us all. You are the reason we're here." _**'And I'll always be here for you Sammy, no matter what happens I'll always protect you. Save you. Love you.'**_Dean silently promised to his brother and hugged him.

John smiled tiredly at his elder son and pressed a soft kiss onto Sam's head. No matter how lame it looked to the normally strong and stoic Winchesters, they also needed some love and assurance on occasion. John too knew it. He knew he had always been too tough on his boys and never let them see how much he loved them. Sam and Dean were his world and he would die to protect them. He could act like a lieutenant towards his soldiers later, but now it was his sons who needed him so much. Hugging both his boys tightly in his arms, John let his emotions flood without even caring for the outside world.

His boys were all he had left, Mary's last gift…his world.

* * *

_**The Next day:-**_

John ran his fingers through his sweaty hair as he heard the whole story of what had happened to Sam. He could not believe someone had tried to kill Sam…twice. A psycho shot his baby and Sam had been having those premonitions… no, this couldn't be possible. Not now…not his Sammy.

He looked at Dean who was also staring at his brother in awe as Sam finished retelling what had happened from the beginning. How the headache started, what happened at the playground and then Ashley's house. How he met Andy and _**oh God!**_ Dean swallowed _**'Another superman'**_ but he didn't utter anything, afraid it would upset his still too weak and pale brother.

"We gotta save those kids, Dad!"

John startled as Sam's soft voice penetrated through his already preoccupied mind.

"Sam I don't think you should…" John's voice cut off in mid-sentence as Sam shook his head with frustration.

"No Dad, the psycho man is killing them. Just because they have…" Swallowing thickly, Sam turned his head from his father and brother "…just 'cause they're freaks like me."

Dean shook his head. "No Sam, you're not a freak."

Blinking rapidly Sam tried to control his emotions. He knew it was not the truth. He could see it in Dean and Dad's eyes. The way they had been staring at him when he told them what had happened, it hurt him. Sam knew Dean and Dad would never hurt him, never thought he was a freak, an abomination…but it still hurt. Deep down he knew, he wasn't normal and why the man tried to kill him. Kill Andy. Because they were freaks. Sam remembered what he had done to his brother. He flinched as that particular sore memory haunted his mind again. _**'I almost killed him. He should hate me by now.'**_ Biting his lower lip, Sam desperately tried to control his posture. He knew his family thought he was the weakling, a whiny brat…but now…with adding insult to injury, he became a freak too.

"Sam! You okay?"

Sam startled as Dean shook his shoulder lightly. He was so engrossed in his own miserable thoughts that he hadn't even noticed Dean and Dad's concerned faces staring at him.

"We have to save them, Dad. We can't let them die. The man's gonna kill them all. He already killed one of them Dad!" Sam was almost hysterical. "We have to save them."

"Okay, okay, calm down Sam!" Grabbing his son's shoulder, John shook him a little. "Just breathe, easy." When Sam's breathing returned to its normal rhythm, John sighed in relief. "We'll save them Sammy. I'm going to call some people and find out who's been doing this. We're going to save the kids and kill that son of a bitch, alright!"

Although not completely assured, Sam nodded knowing he could do nothing about this matter. They had no lead about the killer, nothing. His dad was right; his hunter buddies could help him to find the lead.

"In the meantime, you rest okay Sam!" John nodded at Dean who had already gotten the signal 'Take care of Sam' and patted Sam onto the shoulder. "Do not go wandering outside this house without having Dean or me with you. You're still in danger and do not pull any stunts while I'm out, got it!"

"Yes sir." Sam half-heartedly muttered, not happy about being grounded like a five year old.

"Good boy." John smiled at his boy's antics. Sammy was pissed and he could tell, but no matter how pissed Sam was, John couldn't let his guard down. He had almost lost his boy…

"Dean, take care of your brother and don't let anyone come near him. Call me if anything happens and take care of yourself too."

"Yes sir."

When John left, Dean turned towards his brother and saw his eyes were already drooping in exhaustion.

"Why don't you get some shuteye for a while, Sammy? You look like you're about to fall asleep while sitting up." Dean smirked as his brother rolled his eyes.

"Jerk." Sam yawned and rolled onto his back.

Chuckling, Dean straightened the blanket over his already sleeping brother's body.

"Bitch."

* * *

Sam woke up abruptly from his fitful slumber as the shrill of his cell phone filled the too silent room.

Blinking rapidly Sam glanced around the room, sighing when he failed to spot Dean. He switched on the table lamp beside his bed and saw it was only 6 in the evening. He winced as another monotonous shriek emanated from his cell phone.

Grabbing the phone, he saw it was a private number. Frowning, he stared at the phone for some seconds. Who could have called him from a withheld number?

"Hello?"

There was silence for a bit on the other side. Sam was getting agitated.

"Hello, who's it?"

"Sam Winchester?" The voice sounded thick and somewhat husky.

"Who wants to know?"

"Now you listen to me boy and listen very carefully. I want you to come out of that house and head towards the woods. No fussing, no asking question and don't try to call that brother of yours otherwise I'll chop his head off. Remember, my marksman is out there to shoot any unexpected object."

Sam's heart was beating furiously. He somehow knew this was him. The killer had finally found him.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam was sweating but he held his voice strong. He was itching to call Dean, who he could hear now in the bathroom down the hall, taking a shower.

"Keep your voice down boy and if you think I'm joking with you, then hear it out."

Sam's eyes widened as he heard someone groaned at the other side of the line and a faint female voice; crying. "Please don't kill me please."

"Leave her alone you son of a bitch!" Sam almost shouted but didn't forget to close the door so Dean wouldn't hear him. He couldn't risk Dean's life. He knew the man was dangerous and if he said that he would slit Dean's throat…he would.

"Boy, your dad raised you just right, dontcha' think?" He heard the man's chuckle before his voice turned malicious. "If you don't come out, I'll slit her throat and it will be on your shoulders, do you understand _wonder boy_?"

"No, please don't hurt her." Sam begged as he quickly put on jeans and a shirt. He had to save the girl. He had to, even if that meant he would have to fight to the death against that madman.

"I won't if you come out from your little hole." Sam grabbed his .45 and tucked in into his waistband as he quickly tied his shoelaces; phone still balanced between his left ear and shoulder. "Only ten minutes but if you're late, I'll start ripping her pretty fingers off one by one."

Sam was already at the front door, silently thanking God that Dean was still in the shower. He couldn't see Dr. Robert either; the man must have been in his weird lab and the coast was clear.

Sam strode towards the small dusty road as quickly as his still healing body would allow. He could not let another innocent victim die. He had to save those poor kids from that bastard.

As he drew near the woods, he couldn't see anything or anyone. Sam looked around the area, it was already dark and he could not make out anything clearly.

"I'm here, you bastard. Come out and show me your face." Sam shouted impatiently.

But there was an eerie silence at the other side and it was freaking Sam out.

Suddenly he heard a faint hissing sound, followed immediately by something striking forcefully against his neck. Wincing, Sam dropped the cell phone as a blinding pain shot through his neck. With a trembling hand he pulled out the object and saw it was a tranquilizer dart needle with a bloody tip. Within a second, his eyes rolled back in his head as his unconscious body slumped onto the dirt road.

Two bulky men came out of hiding from the woods and one of them knelt beside the unconscious teen, smirking cruelly.

"Oh Sammy boy, you have no idea what I've got planned for you." Logan ran his calloused hand over the smooth skin of Sam's cheek.

"Get the freak into the car. We have to move from here quickly." He instructed Brad as his partner in crime hoisted Sam's inert body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Picking up the fallen cell phone, Logan put it into his pocket and ran towards his hidden car. After roughly throwing Sam's body in the back seat, he stared the car and sped away towards the east.

"The game has just begun."

* * *

**TBC:- **


End file.
